


Only if for a Knight

by Lady_Brisarys



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: But not really a fix-it, Episode: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Smut, alternative ending, this is not a rom-com
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-12-09 11:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20993891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Brisarys/pseuds/Lady_Brisarys
Summary: After a drinking game gone wrong, Jaime follows Brienne to her chambers. He's pretty hot and sounds quite jealous and she is very diligent, very responsible. All aboard the Braime ship, let's explore an alternative ending to what could have been one of the most epic romances of all time.  Hold on to your dragons, my darlings, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the feast, Jaime follows Brienne to her chambers and has things growing on him. So does Brienne. That's basically it.  
To knight, or not tonight, that's the question.

“I've never slept with a knight before,' Jaime said, with a strangeness in his voice that Brienne couldn't quite define. She felt a sudden urge to look away from him, but for some reason, she couldn't get herself to do it. Her blue eyes were locked on his and with every passing second it felt more like he could see right through her and all of her feelings tumbling over one another. Although she was still wearing all of her clothes, she felt completely naked in front of him.  
“I've never slept with anyone before,” she replied softly, almost so that he couldn't hear. But he heard, and with his good hand, he reached for her face and placed his rough fingers gently under her chin. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she couldn't even hear her own thoughts. Part of her wanted to run away and hide in the woods, but there was another part of her that wanted to stay right there and tear off his clothes. Her gaze dropped to the inches between them on the floor and Jaime's voice cut through the silence like the edge of a Valyrian steel sword.  
  
“Look at me.” In the hearth on the other side of the room, logs were spitting up flames, crackling and cackling at her unease. “Don't be afraid. Just look at me.” When the cold gold of his prosthetic touched her flushed skin, her eyes shot up at him and he replied with his charming Lannister smile. Brienne wasn't sure if she felt either insulted that he would assume she was afraid, or relieved that he understood that she _was_, in fact, afraid.  
There was a tenderness and a vulnerability in his eyes that reminded her of the time they sat by the fire on their way to Harrenhal, after Locke had chopped of his sword hand. She remembered saying, “I know what you did for me. Why did you help me?” He never answered with words, but the memory of the look on his face as he stared into the flames had prevented her from ever asking again. In a way, he had the same look in his eyes now. Only, there was something else there too. Something she had never seen before, or at least she had never recognised it.  
  
“I...” Brienne opened her mouth but the words stuck in her throat. Jaime brushed a lost strand of blond hair behind her ear and traced her cheek and jawline with his thumb, until he met her lips. She felt as though she was floating around in space, looking at herself from a distance, a thousand little lightning bolts coursing through her veins.  
“I know you were always the quiet type, but having a conversation is much more engaging when both people speak,” he said. His face was so close to hers now, that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin. Even though what he said was slightly insulting, in a way it made her feel more at ease. This was the man she knew. Arrogant, insolent, obnoxious. But also charming and patient and brave.  
It would have been a lie to tell herself that she'd never imagined this moment. Truth be told, she thought about something like this – and much more – happening, probably a hundred times before, but she'd always shake away the idea before they would touch in her imagination. This was not her imagination though, this was reality. Jaime's hand moved slowly down her neck to her collarbone and Brienne wished she could say something – anything – but she could scarcely breathe. She was overtaken by a sudden jolt of fear, and backed away from him before she even realised that she was moving at all.  
  
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. It must be the wine.” Jaime rubbed his eyes and was just about to turn around when Brienne grabbed him by the wrist to pull him back to her.  
“You didn't and I want to,” she told him. “I do, it's just...” She could have sworn she saw something ignite in his eyes. “I’ve never done any of this before. I don't feel like making a fool of myself.” For a moment, it was just the two of them, together alone in the world. Even after all the times Jaime had seen her fight for her life – and for his and many other people's lives – he had never been more impressed by her than he was right then and there. His fierce and strong lady knight, armoured both physically and emotionally from head to toe. It all melted away before his eyes, until there was nothing left of the warrior, the knight, the fighter. She was just woman tonight, almost a girl.  
  
Brienne was so lost in her own mind for a second, that it felt like someone had woken her up from a deep sleep when Jaime seized her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her - passionately, intensely, like he had never kissed anyone before. Their lips locked together as their bodies collided. Jaime's hand went down to her shirt again, but this time he started to untie it with such ferocity one would think he'd always been a left-handed man. Brienne still had her eyes closed but without realising it, was helping him undress herself. She held her hands on her chest where she could feel her heart almost beating right through it.  
She stood like that for a couple of seconds, hesitating, while Jaime stared at her with an unfamiliar expression on his face. Eventually, she let the fabric slide off her shoulders. Jaime had seen her years before in the bath at Harrenhal, but not like this. That was nothing like this. Back then he had looked her, but not _seen_ her. Tonight, he _saw_ her.  
  
Jaime stared at her for the longest time, breathing her in. Her skin was so fair, it reflected the light from the fire and it reminded him of the moon. Looking into her eyes in the half-lit room was like staring up into the clear night's sky, with millions of little stars sparkling like diamonds. Like sapphires. She shuddered under his tender and gentle touch as he moved his hand slowly down her arm.  
Brienne looked down at herself and felt her spirits drop. Bruises, wounds and scars everywhere. Training in preparation for the battle caused her to put on a few pounds in muscle and - although it had given her the extra strength she needed - she had not felt this unwomanly since the day she was put to fight that bear. She missed the safe and protected comfort of her heavy armour and remembered why no man had ever seen her naked before.  
Jaime must have either seen or felt the pain of Brienne’s insecurity, because he leaned in to kiss her again, but different than before. Less driven by passion, it was a kiss of reassurance. She realised that it felt nothing like she had imagined, kissing a man with a beard. She liked the way the coarse hairs scratched her skin. The kiss was messy, one might even call it slightly awkward. There was the smacking of lips, a collision of teeth and at one point, his nose got in the way of hers. But it was good. It was careless and free and sweet. In a moment of boldness she sucked on his bottom lip and nipped at it. Jaime could practically feel the blood rushing to his manhood as he let out a low moan that sent shivers down Brienne’s spine.  
  
It was Jaime who broke off their kiss. The way he stared at her made her feel slightly uncomfortable.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?” he finally asked. Brienne snorted and rolled her eyes.  
“Are you mocking me? Because this is really not the time.” She crossed her arms over her chest as a barrier, to prevent his words from hurting her.  
“What? What is wrong with you? I’m trying to say something nice and you _immediately_ assume that I’m mocking you?” She raised her eyebrows in a look that said “_are you kidding me_?” and he realised that he couldn’t really blame her. Through the years, he had given her plenty of reasons to assume he _would be_ mocking her. Jaime immediately regretted asking out loud, but before he could take it back, she had started summing up many of his great life’s mistakes.  
“Well I don’t know - I seem to recall that, on the day we first met, you asked Lady Catelyn where she’d found ‘this beast’.” Jaime cursed himself under his breath.  
“Yes, well, I was -”  
“Or,” she interrupted, “that time you told me I was ‘much uglier in daylight’. Or when you told me some must have tried to ‘get inside big Brienne’.” He only remembered saying half of those things but he wouldn’t dare argue about this with her.  
“Brienne, please, I -”  
“So, I don’t know where I got the idea, Jaime. Maybe it was that time you told me I was as boring as I was ugly. Or the time you asked me if I was sure were weren’t related, because I had the hair for it, but not the looks. No wait, here’s a good one, remember that time you -”. Jaime couldn't listen to this any longer. He knew she was right, but did she _have_ to point out every stupid thing he ever said to her? Jaime didn’t mean to yell, but it was the only way for them to get off this trail of awful memories. He took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake to make her snap out of it.  
  
“Stop it! Just… Please, stop.” Brienne sighed deeply and Jaime could feel her tensed muscles relax under his touch. “Listen, I know I said some horrible things.” _That look again_. “Alright, _a lot _of horrible things. I was an idiot. But I’m not that person anymore, Brienne. I’ve changed, you know that.” He could see the anger and annoyance leave her face. “You know this because_ you _have changed me.” She shook her head in disbelief and looked away, but he reached for her face and turned it back to him.  
“You know it’s true. You’re the only one except for my brother, who ever really believed in me. So believe me now. Please.” He touched the scars on her neck, and the one on her lip, traced one of her blond eyebrows with his thumb. “You _are_ beautiful, Brienne of Tarth.” As Brienne felt her eyes fill with tears, she threw herself against his body and kissed him in a moment of bravery. It was unlike anything else, the way it felt to have his skin on hers. Part of her was still kind of mad at him, but wasn’t that the way it always went between them? For every time he made her want to kiss him, he made her want to punch him. Usually at the exact same time. It’s the price you pay for being in love with Jaime Lannister.  
  
She thought of his words earlier during the feast, when he said, “We fought dead things and lived to talk about it, if this isn’t the time to drink, when is?” He was right. All she had been doing for months was fighting, being honourable and courageous in the face of danger. Maybe it was about time she was courageous in a different way. No matter what would happen after tonight, she wanted to be with a man for the first time in her entire life. Not just any man, this man, and she wanted it more than anything right now.  
She wasn't sure if it was the wine or something else, but all of her fear went away. For the first time in her adult life, she completely let her guard down. She felt so safe in his strong arms - loved, even - that even if it was only for a night, Brienne decided to let herself be the woman she had pushed away in order to become the warrior.  
  
With his right arm wrapped around her waist, Jaime’s left hand cupped her breast and her nipple hardened at his unfamiliar touch. Before long, they were tumbling over one another on the soft feather bed. It was a playful sort of wrestling match; sensual and passionate, yet gentle and sweet. In a way it was the same as when they sparred together in the courtyard. Competitive and somewhat calculated, but at the same time there was something so very intuitive about the way they moved together. Like a dance that was truly unparalleled. And just as it was when they were training, time stood still and the world and everything and everyone in it, evaporated around them. However many times they rolled around, Brienne always made sure that Jaime ended up on top. He did not seem to mind, nipping lovingly at her long and slender neck.  
It wasn’t until he pulled down his breeches that she dared to look at his groin. The undeniable sight of his arousal gave her sense of pride, and yet it made her blush. She wanted to both look away from it and stare at it, fascinated. Jaime’s kisses and touches started becoming less careful, deliberate and well thought out - his hunger for her was slowly taking over control. The way she looked at him longingly, caressed him with inexperienced exploratory touches and the way her soft, warm skin felt again his. Her strong thighs and amazingly long legs. The sweet taste of her mouth and almost cinnamon-like smell of her neck, equally sweet and spicy. Just like her, really. One would never have guessed all this beauty was just beneath the surface of her dark heavy armour.  
  
Neither of them had any idea how long they had been kissing. It could have been minutes or hours. When love awakens, time sleeps. By now, their bodies were completely intertwined and neither of them knew where one ended and the other person began. Admittedly, Brienne’s kisses and touches were somewhat clumsy and rough. Jaime could tell she was inexperienced but good gods, did she learn fast. Once her nerves calmed down and she let go of whatever it was that was holding her back, she was on absolute _fire_.  
Every so often, Brienne would interrupt their passionate symphony by apologising for one thing or another and every time, Jaime would silence her by covering her mouth with his. When Jaime’s lips hovered over her nipples, Brienne could feel the immediate response at the sensation of his warm breath teasing them. She arched her back as he closed his mouth around her small breast. Jaime could’ve spent all night kissing her fair skin and its many bruises and scars, but then again, he couldn't _really_. He wanted much more than just to kiss her.

Jaime looked up at her face as his hand moved between her legs and into her warmth, where no man had ever touched her. He marvelled at the realisation that she had never been with anyone before him. Brienne felt his erection push against her leg when he carefully entered her with his finger. She had her eyes closed, breathing heavily and biting her lip with pleasure. He wondered if it was everything she imagined it would be. It couldn’t be much worse. Could it be better? In truth, he’d usually worried more about his own pleasure, but it was different with Brienne. For once, he didn’t even care that much about himself. He just wanted her to know what being loved and adored by a man could feel like.  
He wondered if she knew she made him feel slightly nervous each time she looked at him, and yet made him feel more comfortable than with anyone else. Did she know that she was the reason he came all this way? As much as he’d like to tell himself that he came to Winterfell for honour, to keep his word after Cersei had betrayed them, if it weren’t for Brienne, he would have stayed in King’s Landing.  
  
Ever since arriving at Winterfell a month ago, he caught himself thinking about her more and more often. When he lay in bed at night, he kept seeing visions of her smile, the look she gave him after he knighted her. No matter what he tried to distract himself, she always ended up floating around him in his mind’s eye, staring at him with those big, blue eyes, looking right into his heart. He caught himself trying to remember what she’d looked like when he told her it was no wonder Renly died with her guarding him, and she got so angry she jumped up and almost punched him in the face. The memory of that fierceness warmed his heart and set it soul on fire.  
He lay awake like that most nights, and when he finally did fall asleep, he dreamt about her. Other people had started to notice his lack of sleep. Especially Sansa and Podrick had been commenting on the way he closely resembled a White Walker these days.  
  
Once, when he was sparring with Podrick in the courtyard, he saw her arguing with one of the unsullied who spoke the Common Tongue. Her cheeks were red and she had that very typical frown on her face that Jaime had come to know _very_ well. It was the face she made when she felt like she wasn't being taken seriously. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever it was, Brienne was probably right and the unsullied would do better to just admit it. She has such a keen military mind, it was equally unsettling and impressive.  
Finally, she must have won the argument, because she stomped away in true Brienne fashion. Podrick caught Jaime staring at her and smacked him in the back of his knees. Jaime couldn’t help but laugh.  
  
The day after that, he happened to walk past as she was taking off her armour on a tree stump in front of her chambers. She looked sweaty and tired from training all day and she was about to take a bath in the castle. Jaime stared at her from a distance, pretending to be polishing his sword. She never saw him. Part of him hoped that she _would _and wondered how she would have reacted. Would she have been able to see what he was thinking about? It wouldn’t be the first time.  
He tried to remember what she looked like underneath all that heavy armour he had given her. Would she have known that he was imagining what her skin would smell like, what her mouth would taste like? Eventually, he even wondered what it would be like to be inside of her. He was equal parts surprised and embarrassed to be thinking about her in that way. He had been feeling very strongly about Brienne for a long time now, but something had changed since coming to Winterfell.  
  
Brienne had lost all sense of her surroundings. It was the strangest, most amazing feeling she’d ever had. She felt so free and careless. The way her septa always talked about it, sex was a woman’s duty, something you had to endure, but definitely not something to be enjoyed. She knew better than that, but her imagination was nothing compared to the reality. Clearly, her septa had never been with a man like Jaime. But then again, there were no men like him - only him.  
Brienne clawed at his back as she felt his fingers move inside her and she squirmed and trembled under the weight of his body. Jaime gently pushed her legs apart as he got in between them.  
“Are you sure about this? We can stop if you want,” he asked reluctantly but genuinely, as he brushed her cheek. Brienne smiled back at him, her hair all messy and her cheeks flushed.  
“I am,” she said and she pulled herself up toward him, to press a firm, uncomplicated kiss on his lips.  
  
Although it wasn't quite as easy as when Jaime had still had both hands, he could hold himself up on his right elbow to guide himself inside her.  
Just before he was about to do so, she put a hand on his chest and said, “Be gentle.” This took him by surprise, but he smiled back at her and nodded, “I will.” To be honest, at this point, he didn’t really feel like being _that _gentle, but of course he would be. He made sure to move slowly, although his body told him otherwise. She gasped quietly with the sting of pain when he entered her for the first time, and dug her nails into the skin of his arms. While he slowly let himself deeper inside her, he listened carefully for any clues that she was uncomfortable or that she wanted to stop.  
Once he was fully sheathed by her warmth, both of them stopped moving and neither of them spoke. They just lay breathing other in for a moment, as if they were just now realising that this was actually happening and couldn’t quite wrap their heads around it.  
  
After a little while, Jaime started moving, slowly and deeply, and with every measured thrust, their soft moans filled the silence around them. He picked up the pace and became slightly more forceful in his movement. At one point Jaime could’ve sworn she tried to say something, but her moans were distracting him too much to make sense of what she said.  
Her breathing fastened and the sounds she made as he made love to her, pushed him over the edge with more force than he could have anticipated. With short but deep thrusts and long groans, he spilled inside her. He trembled and groaned, his muscles tensing and relaxing together as his orgasm raged through his body and into hers. Brienne stared up at him, breathlessly, stroking his hair as he leaned over her.  
  
When he finally opened his eyes, he kissed her forehead and shifted his weight to pull himself out, but Brienne touched his arm and said, “Wait. Let’s... Let’s stay like this, just for a little while.” Jaime smiled at her and let his sweaty body down again, completely covering hers like a heavy blanket. There was something calming and comforting about the way their hearts beat against each other through their chests. When he eventually rolled off her, Brienne turned to her side and rested her head on his chest, with his left arm securely around her shoulders and his heart beating strongly against her temple. Brienne took his arm in her hand and gently touched the scarred skin on his stump, causing Jaime to grimace.   
“Does it still hurt?” she asked. Jaime clenched his jaw and looked away from her.  
“Only when I look at it,” he replied bitterly. She felt bad for bringing it up.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”  
  
When Brienne didn’t respond, he stroked her cheek and added, “If I had to do it all over again, I would.” She never heard him say anything like this before. He’d always been so bitter about what happened and it seemed to her that he regretted trying to save her. Jaime scoffed. “Although, I would try to save you in a less ehm… debilitating sort of way. But you know what…” He looked down at her face and stroked her hair. “It was worth it, to end up here with you.” Even after all of tonight’s events, she could feel her cheeks redden again.  
“I can’t believe it. Are you blushing?” Jaime asked. She pushed him away and turned around.  
“Oh piss off.” She could hear him laugh behind her, but when she felt his warm arm wrap around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, all she could do was smile. He kissed her shoulder - once, twice, countless times – every kiss sweeter and more tender than the last.   
“I think I love you, Brienne.” Her heart skipped not just one, but multiple beats and she was glad that Jaime couldn’t see the tears burning in her eyes. She smiled into the darkness of the room. Saying the words out loud was almost terrifying, as if pointing out the obvious would make it even more real than it already was. It took her such a long time to find the courage, that her voice was little more than a whisper into the night.  
“And I love you.” Jaime pulled her in even closer as warm waves of sleep washed over her and she drifted off into dreams of spring.  
  
Even with the world around them disappearing for the night, Jaime lay awake for hours while Brienne slept. At first it was because of Brienne. Then because of Cersei. Then he was overtaken by another one of his reoccurring and very much crippling headaches. After that, when the sun had already started to rise over Winterfell, he finally fell into a deep sleep. When morning came, all he remembered of his dreams was Brienne’s smile morphing into Cersei’s hateful and disgusted scowl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first night together, not everything is as it seems in Winterfell. Someone gets a visit from an unexpected messenger. Someone else has other stuff to deal with. I hope you enjoy!

When Brienne opened her eyes again, it was morning in Winterfell. The fire in the hearth had gone out, but the fire in her heart was still very much burning. There also seemed to be a hysterically burning fire going on in her brain. The room was freezing cold - winter really had come – but under the furs and in Jaime’s arms, it didn’t bother her at all. Brienne’s head was aching as she stretched her legs under the furs. Behind her back she could feel Jaime’s warm body stirring.  
“Hmpf...,” his sigh in her neck made her tingle all over. “Are you awake?”  
“Yes,” she answered quietly, barely louder than a whisper.  
“Thank the gods. I thought my arm was about to fall off.” She kicked him in the leg for that.  
“You could have woken me up, you know,” she said. Jaime turned on his back and put his arm under his head.  
“I know, but it was so quiet and peaceful with you asleep, I didn't want to ruin the moment.” Another kick. Brienne didn't really know what to say. Her head was spinning and she had a foul taste in her mouth. Brienne wasn't the type for drinking. She didn’t really enjoy the taste that much and, more importantly, she did _not_ like the way it dulled her senses. She wondered if Jaime had been so drunk that he now regretted what had happened last night. Maybe he didn't even remember. She didn't know which would be worse. The thought gave her a stomach ache either way.  
  
“What are you thinking about?” Sometimes she’d swear he could hear her thoughts. She turned her head away from him so he wouldn't see her blushing. When she didn't answer, he continued, “We should really get up. Before anyone misses us.” He pressed a kiss on her bare shoulder, got out of bed and started picking up his clothes from the floor. He dressed quietly and after he put on his boots, he grabbed the empty flagon of wine from the table and made his way to the door. “I'll go first. See you at breakfast.” He looked back at her, smiled and just like that, he left. He _left_. Brienne pulled the covers up to her chin, her mind racing with thoughts._ I’ll go first_? What did he mean by that? Was he afraid to be seen leaving her chambers? Was he embarrassed to be seen with _her_?  
  
Brienne got out of bed and – slowly - put on her clothes. Every movement she made felt like the world was making somersaults around her. She walked to the table and poured herself a cup of water, but as soon as she took one sip she felt like throwing up. Suddenly she spotted a black raven sitting in the window, cocking his head to one side as he looked at her.  
“Remind me to never drink again,” she told the bird. The raven didn’t move, it just sat there staring at her, its head tilted to one side. She walked over to the window and saw he had message attached to his leg. Brienne looked up at the towers outside and wondered why the bird had failed to deliver the message there. She stepped into the cold and took the small scroll from the bird. “Well, off you go, go on, _shoo_!” The bird flapped its wings at her gesture and hopped a few inches to the side, but refused to fly away. “Suit yourself, stupid bird.” She went back inside to get Oathkeeper, and headed towards the castle.  
  
Walking her normal pace caused her dizziness, so she slowed it down considerably and tried to appear as much her normal self as she could manage. When she reached Podrick’s chambers, she knocked on the door and when he didn’t respond, she knocked again.  
“Podrick? Are you up?” she called. He didn’t reply but she was certain she heard noises coming from inside the room. “Pod?” she insisted. “We should get some breakfast.” Why wasn’t he answering her? She knew he was there. Brienne felt like someone was staring at her and she looked over her shoulder. The raven was sitting in the snow a few yards behind her. “Are you following me?” she asked suspiciously. “Just bugger off! Go away!” She tried to scare the bird off but he didn’t budge. Brienne growled and turned back to the door. “Podrick!” She hated it whenever he tested her patience and that’s why he usually didn’t. Brienne decided she’d waited long enough and opened the door. On the bed opposite her was a young girl with long brown curls, naked. She looked startled. “Oh I’m – I’m really sorry,” Brienne said as she looked away from the girl. “I was just looking for Podrick. Have you- Have you seen him?” What a stupid question. The girl quickly put on the nearest piece of clothing she could find, and said:  
“Yes. He went to the castle to look for you. He visited your chambers first, but he came back and said you had left already,” Brienne tried to conceal how uncomfortable the thought was, of Podrick looking through the window of her chambers while she was in bed with Jaime Lannister. She nodded.  
  
“I see. Well, thank you.” She looked at the girl. She’d never seen her before, but she was beautiful and had the sweetest face, with big brown eyes. “Goodbye.” Brienne was about to step outside again when the girl called after her. “Podrick tells me you fought bravely on the battlefield. He says you are the best knight he’s ever met.” Brienne didn’t know how to respond to that.  
“Yes. Well. I did what was necessary.” The girl looked disappointed and Brienne quickly added, “I could not have done it without him,” which seemed to work, because the girl smiled at her and turned away. Brienne walked outside and closed the door behind her. Without her noticing, it had started snowing again. Just as she thought the raven had gone, there it was, sitting on a low branch about a quarter of the way between her and the castle. She looked at the scroll in her hand and its dark blue seal, half a sun and half a moon. Her heart stopped. It was her father’s seal. When she looked up at the bird again, it had gone. She contemplated breaking the seal but then again, that wouldn’t be right. Whatever the message was, it wasn’t meant for her but for the maester of Winterfell. She traced the contours of the seal with her thumb, stuck the scroll under her sword belt and made her way to the castle.  
  
“I see the wine hit you about as bad as it did me.” Tyrion sat down next to Jaime at the long table in the great hall. Jaime had his face buried in his hands and didn’t respond. “Unless...” Tyrion continued, “you were hit by something else?” Jaime looked up slowly and give him an accusing look. “Someone, perhaps?” He rubbed his hands over his face again and shook his head. “I see.” Tyrion poured himself some milk and stared at his cup, a look of severe disappointment on his face. Jaime didn’t pay much attention to any of it. His brother might have been short of stature but if he could add the words that came out of his mouth to his height, he would have been taller than that creepy dead giant. Jaime flinched. _There’s that pain again_. He closed his eyes to make it go away, but as soon as he did, he saw Brienne’s face before him.  
“Why is everyone being so obnoxiously loud this morning?” he snapped. Tyrion raised his eyebrows in surprise and studied Jaime’s face. He looked around the room. There were about 20 other people having breakfast but in no way were they being loud.  
“Are you alright? You look kind of pale.” Jaime did not like the worried look on his brother’s face. It always felt like he could stare right into his soul.  
“It’s nothing. Really.” Not very convincing.  
“Actually, you look awful.” He made Jaime turn to face him by pulling on his arm.  
“Have you seen _yourself_ lately?” Jaime gave him the weakest of smiles.  
“I try to avoid doing that. Truly, Jaime, you should go and see the maester. You don’t look well.” Thankfully, the pain started to subside and he put in some extra effort to make his smile more genuine.  
“I told you, it’s nothing. I’m just tired and hungover.” Tyrion took some bread from the table and gave half of it to his brother.  
“Tired huh? So she has as much stamina in bed as she has on the battlefield then? Can’t say I’m surprised. But I wouldn’t have thought she’d wear you out on the first night. You’re getting old, brother.” Jaime glared at him.  
“I really don’t think we need to discuss this matter.” As soon as he’d finished his sentence, he heard familiar footsteps coming from the hallway behind him. He looked up and Tyrion followed his gaze as Brienne appeared around the corner. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she saw Jaime, but quickly pulled herself together, nodded politely and walked straight past them to another table, where Podrick was seated. Tyrion’s eyes widened and he looked back at Jaime.  
“Wow. That look was colder than the Night King’s heart. My dear brother, you’ve messed up. Ha!” He slapped him on the shoulder, stood up and walked over to Varys, who had come in from the other side of the room.  
  
“Morning!” Podrick sounded awfully cheerful today. Brienne frowned at his enthusiasm.  
“Yes. Good morning. I went looking for you. I ehm… found your _friend_.” She could've sworn he was blushing.  
“Ah. Her name is Lysa. Why don't you sit down, eat with me.” He gestured to the empty spot next to him om the bench. Brienne shook her head.  
“Maybe later. I have to get this to the maester. Some stupid raven couldn’t find the tower.” She tapped her fingers on the scroll under her sword belt. Podrick looked at it and said,  
“Isn’t that the Evenstar’s seal? Your father’s? Why would he be sending ravens to Winterfell?” Brienne shrugged.  
“How am I supposed to know? I haven’t seen my father in years.” Podrick gave her his all-telling smile and she immediately regretted snapping at him. “Sorry about that.” She glanced over at Jaime, involuntarily. “I didn’t sleep very well. I’ll see you later.” And with that, she walked away. When she passed Jaime they exchanged looks but neither of them knew what they meant. All they knew was that last night’s feelings felt kingdoms away right now.  
  
Brienne found Samwell Tarly in the exact place she expected him to be: the library. She observed him for a moment before walking up to him. He wasn’t anything like the other maesters Brienne had met. There was a clumsiness and awkwardness to him but he was so extremely loyal and strategically talented, she couldn’t help but like him. If there was one thing she appreciated in people more than anything, it was a strong moral compass. She couldn't help but smile when Sam knocked a book from a table when he turned his heavy body around to reach for a piece of parchment. It wasn't until then that he noticed Brienne watching him.  
“Ser Brienne. Seven blessings to you.” Brienne realised he took better care of his books than some people take care of their children.  
“And to you, Sam.”  
“Can I be of assistance to you?” Brienne reached for the scroll and rolled it around in her hands, hesitating.  
“I’m not sure. I found a raven outside my chambers. Had had this attached to his leg.” She handed him the scroll and saw him recognise the seal. Before he could ask anything she added, “I don’t know why he sent it or what it is about. I haven’t heard from him for quite some time.” Sam nodded, broke the seal and started reading. He couldn’t have gotten very far before he rolled it up and handed it back to Brienne.  
“It’s for you, actually,” he said. Brienne frowned in confusion. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” She didn’t reply immediately. She just stared at the scroll with the broken blue seal and didn’t move.  
“No, that’s all. Thank you.” Sam nodded and starting piling up more books.  
“That must have been a smart raven,” he said airily. Brienne looked up at him. “He knew where to find you. Ravens are truly fascinating aren’t they? You know, when I was in the Night’s Watch, the Old Bear had this raven that could talk. He always used to...” Brienne didn’t even try to pretend she was listening. “Well… Never mind. I should get back to work. The gods know the battle was won, but the war isn’t over just yet.” He went about his business and in doing so, seemed to forget Brienne was even there. Minutes passed before she gathered the courage to read the message.  
  
_Brienne,_  
Your father has fallen ill. It’s quite serious. It’s time to come home and fulfil your duties as the heir to Tarth. He needs you. Your people need you. Send a raven before you leave.  
Maester Rowan  
  
Come home? _Home_? Brienne hadn’t thought about home in months. Truth be told, she didn’t even know if she considered Tarth to be her home anymore. Of course reading that her father was in bad health made her sad, but had he not heard about the battle? Did he not know what was going on anywhere between the Wall and King’s Landing? If he knew she was in Winterfell than surely he knew what was going on. As Sam had said, the war was far from over and she couldn’t possibly leave _now_. Besides, maester Rowan always had a taste for theatrics. She swore an oath! But then again… what if her father was dying? What if he died and she wasn’t there? What would become of house Tarth then? What if _she_ had died during the battle? Brienne’s head was spinning and she felt a sudden urge to go outside and get some air. Without saying goodbye, she stormed out of the library and in her panic she almost knocked Jaime down the stairs. She didn’t mean to sound as surprised and emotional as she did when she greeted him.  
“Ser Jaime.” He gave her a weak smile.  
“Ser Brienne.” There was something odd about the way he looked at her. “Are you alright? Did something happen?” Brienne felt a sudden rush of emotions overwhelm her: anger, sadness, disappointment, conflict. Her voice was shaking when she said,   
“_Everything_ happened, Jaime.” She tried to walk past him but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. “Let me go!” She sounded so… not angry, but _hurt_. She pulled away from him and practically ran down the stairs, leaving Jaime behind. If it were Cersei, he knew better than to have followed her. But Brienne was different. With Brienne, he was never quite sure what the right move was, even though she was far more predictable than his sister. He listened until he could no longer hear her hasty footsteps echoing through the halls and then peeked inside the library opposite the stairs. Tyrion was right, he should talk to a maester. But that could wait. There was something else he needed to do first.  
  
He found Brienne trying to turn a sparring dummy into firewood. Her cheeks were red and she looked both furious and sad. Jaime decided to wait until he was more or less convinced she wouldn’t chop off his head at the sight of him, before walking up to her.  
“How is it that I’m getting slower every day and you keep getting better?” She ignored him, but her body language changed significantly, telling him she was listening. “I don’t know what I was thinking, fighting you on that bridge.” Still nothing. “I was an idiot.” This triggered her. She whirled around and stared him in the face, her eyes were like fire. Jaime sighed. “Tell me what’s going on.” Brienne threw her sparring sword to the side and strode off with Jaime on her heels.  
“Leave me alone.” Jaime was not convinced. He hated to admit it but he had trouble keeping up with her pace as she stomped across the snow covered courtyard.  
"You know I won’t. Just tell me what’s going on with you.” She didn’t look up, but answered all the same.  
“I think you know.”  
“I truly don’t. Will you stop for a second?” He grabbed her arm and made her look at him.  
“What is it exactly, that you want from me, Jaime?” He couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. “Am I just a game to you? I am not a toy. And I don’t appreciate being treated like one.” She pulled her arm free and walked to her chambers, Jaime still following her.  
  
“A _game_? Are you talking about last night? I thought you wanted that.” Brienne swung the door of her chambers open with so much force Jaime was certain she'd leave a hole in the wall. She tried to slam it shut but Jaime was right behind her and it was too late for her to lock him out.  
“Gods you’re such an idiot!” she yelled, “and I want you to leave!” She even shoved him.  
“I don’t believe you.”  
“I don’t _care_ what you believe! Get out or I swear to the gods, I’ll-” Jaime grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her right in the eyes.  
“You’ll do what? Kill me?” Brienne’s eyes widened.  
“Why would you say that?” She sounded hurt again.  
“I don’t know, Brienne. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know _what_ to say to you.” Brienne freed herself from his grip again and stalked to the other side of the room where she started to make a fire.  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t say anything. I didn’t ask you to follow me. I didn’t ask you to talk to me. Just leave if all you’re going to be doing is get on my nerves.” Jaime sat down at the end of the bed and watched Brienne throwing the wood around like a maniac. He conveniently ignored the last part of what she said.  
“Does that mean you didn’t want me to?” She looked over her shoulder at him, still as much hurt as anger in her eyes. “To follow you, I mean.” Finally, she seemed to calm down and knelt down in front of the hearth to rearrange the firewood that now looked as if a hurricane had raged through it. Hurricane Brienne. It took a long moment of silence for Brienne to reply and her voice was sad and quiet when she spoke again,  
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Tears started to well up in her eyes and she cursed herself for it. Jaime got up and walked over to her.  
“If you look me in the eye and tell me you want me to leave one more time, I will.” She looked at him, but couldn’t get herself to say the words. The hint of a smug little smile appeared on Jaime’s face. “Why don’t you want to tell me what’s going on? I thought we’d moved past this after all that we’ve been through.” _All that we’ve been through_. For some reason that sentence felt like someone shot an icy arrow through her heart. She didn’t understand what that feeling was supposed to mean. When she didn’t reply, Jaime continued, “You know, you’re allowed to cry. You’re not an unsullied. People don’t get beheaded for being human anymore.”  
“Who says I need to cry?” she snapped.  
“_I_ do. As much as you hate it, I _know_ you.” Brienne bit her lip, trying to find the right words.  
“Why did you leave like that?” The question came out of nowhere to Jaime. Really? All of _this_, because of the way he left? “If you regret what happened last night, just say so. I told you, I don’t want to play games.” Jaime rose to his feet, took her hand and led her to the bed where he sat down next to her.  
  
“I don’t want you to ever think that I could regret sleeping with you.” He said sternly. “I don’t know what I did to upset you so. I just wanted to give you some time to get ready. Besides, I felt that me hanging around made you feel uncomfortable and awkward.” Brienne scoffed.   
“I’m always awkward.” She said it so sincerely that it made them both laugh. Jaime brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was longer than he’d seen it before and he liked it. She usually combed her hair back rigorously until it was as unforgiving as her armour, but today there was a playfulness to it. It almost seemed unnatural.  
“I need you to know something.” Jaime took both her hands and kissed her long fingers. “I know it’s hard for you to trust people, but I need you to trust me. I need you to believe that I care about you and that I don’t want to hurt you. And I need you to believe that I have been thinking about kissing you every day for weeks and quite frankly it’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about since we walked in here. Do you want to know why?” Brienne nodded slowly, clenching her jaw to hide the way her chin was quivering. “Because you’re beautiful. Because I’m in love with you. I don’t know when it happened, or why or even how - but it did. I love you and I need you to -”. He never got to finish his sentence. Her kiss washed over him and he could taste the salt of her tears on his lips. It was like something ignited within him whenever they kissed. Brienne grabbed hold of his clothes and started undressing him. Jaime was so overwhelmed by this sudden explosion of passion that all he could do was follow her lead.  
  
Before they knew it, they were both naked again. Jaime sat on the bed and Brienne straddled him, her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders. His hands were moving slowly up and down her back as he kissed her neck. Her soft moans and sighs seemed to echo and blend together in his mind. It felt like she was a sorceress casting a spell on him that caused him to completely lose himself in her. Jaime revelled in the familiar sweet smell of her skin and how it reminded him of cinnamon. Once or twice, he tried to take control but good gods was she strong. Eventually he had to admit to himself that he wouldn’t be able to win this struggle for power.  
“Brienne,” he breathed, “I need you to stop for a second.” She ignored him and kissed his chest while she dug her short nails in his skin. She might have been rather clumsy and insecure during their last adventure, but this time around she was all power and dominance. This other side to Brienne was so intriguing to Jaime that he could barely focus, but there was something he didn’t get around to doing last night, that he needed to get done today.  
  
He grabbed her by the wrist and said, “I want to try something else.” This caught her attention. Her cheeks were flushed and Jaime’s heart rate continued to increase when he recognised that mischievous sparkle in her eyes again.  
“What is it?” As fierce and strong as she was, sometimes she seemed little more than a girl to him, exploring something new and exciting. Jaime got out from under her, made her lie back on the bed, put his arms under her hips and pulled her towards the end of the bed.  
“Trust me,” he whispered before kissing her again. He left a trail of kisses on her fair skin, from her breasts to her right hip, then moved to just above the left knee and started kissing her thighs. Having his head so near her intimate area suddenly made her feel slightly embarrassed. She pushed herself up on one elbow and looked down at his face. He had his eyes closed and therefore didn’t notice her reaction.  
“What are you doing?” She felt stupid for asking. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew perfectly well what he was doing, but it was all she could come up with to stop him. The distress in her voice made it impossible for him to ignore her, so he looked up and gave her a cheeky smile.  
“Don’t you trust me?” He knew this would work. She frowned slightly and bit her lip, hesitating. “Just let go. Give in,” he reassured her. She rolled her eyes, sighed and lay back into the pillows.  
  
Jaime pushed her knees apart while his mouth found its way to her sex. When he pressed his first kiss on the soft skin between her legs, she gasped quietly and tried to clamp her knees together. The way he worked with her body – as if it were the only thing he’d ever known – made Brienne cry out. She grabbed hands full of blankets and furs to stop herself from jumping off the bed. With her back arched and every muscle in her strong body tensed, she looked nothing short of a work of art. She moaned as she rolled her hips to push herself against his face. Every now and then Jaime looked up at her and seeing her like that might have been the best thing he’d ever seen. His mouth was warm and wet against her as he moved his tongue in between her lips. He swirled around the bundle of nerves and Brienne wrapped her legs around his shoulders to make sure he didn't go anywhere. Jaime once again couldn’t believe that he was the only man who had ever had the honour and absolute pleasure of tasting her. It was even better than he had imagined. He kissed and licked and suckled and enjoyed the symphony of shrieks, gasps and moans that Brienne created above him. By this time he was so hard it almost hurt, but no orgasm could beat what he felt from seeing Brienne completely let go, and realising he made her feel safe enough to do just that. Jaime stared at her face, longingly, when he entered her with his fingers. It didn’t take long for her to orgasm after that and when she did, it was glorious. She shuddered and arched her back, holding her breath until she let out an amazingly long sigh of satisfaction. It was music to Jaime’s ears.  
  
“That was...” she panted, hiding her face under the crook of her arm, “just...”. Jaime got up and climbed back into bed with her.  
“Good. I’m glad you liked it.” Brienne lowered her elbow just enough to peek over the edge of her arm into Jaime’s steel blue eyes. He slowly moved his hand over her pale skin as she caught her breath, and gently squeezed her breast.  
“Did you… Um… Was it ok… for you?” Jaime gave her a warm smile.  
“I’m not sure who enjoyed this more. You,” he kissed her. “Or me. But hold on. We’re not done just yet.” A flash of excitement danced across Brienne’s eyes.  
“We’re not?” Jaime looked down at his manhood.  
“Do I look _done_ to you? I want you to be on top this time.” She looked uncertain. “Unless you don’t want to,” he quickly added, but she was already climbing on top of him. She stroked him for a few seconds before she guided him inside her. Jaime moaned and grabbed her ass as her warmth surrounded him. Brienne placed her hands on his chest as she began to ride him, slowly at first but quickly picking up the pace. Her fingers combed through the hairs on his chest until she leaned back and put her hands on his thighs. He was in absolute awe of her. Every freckle, every scar, everything that anyone might consider to be an imperfection, was amazing to him. She was the pinnacle of perfection. He had hoped he could have delayed his orgasm some more, but she was too strong, too powerful for him to try and stay in charge of his own body. He was pretty sure he breathed her name when he filled her with his seed. They kissed for a long while after that.  
  
Once Brienne had cleaned Jaime and herself up, they lay next to each other in silence, just as they had done the night before. Jaime lay on his back and Brienne traced circles on his chest. She contemplated telling him about the message she received earlier. Just as she was about to tell him, they heard footsteps approaching her chambers. They gave each other a guilty look before the knock on the door sounded.  
“It could be lady Sansa, I have to answer,” she said quietly. “If you stand there,” she gestured to the corner between the wall and the door, “they won’t see you.” She was about to get up, but Jaime pulled her back onto the bed and got up instead, wrapping one of the blankets around his waist while he walked towards the door. “Jaime, what are you doing?” she hissed at him. He ignored her and opened the door, finding Podrick with his fist raised, ready to knock again.  
“Oh, I-I...” he stuttered.  
“Hello Podrick. Can I help you?” Brienne pulled the covers over her head and wanted to disappear.  
“I was ehm…”  
“Yes?”  
“I was looking for ehm... Ser Brienne.” Jaime nodded slowly.  
“I’m sure you were. I’ll tell her you came to see her.” He was about the close the door again, when Podrick finally pulled himself together enough to get to the point.  
“Actually, it’s lady Sansa. She sent me to go and find her.”  
“I see. She’ll be out in a minute, alright?” Podrick tried to look into the room.  
“Is she in there?” Jaime raised his eyebrows in surprise.  
“Yes, Podrick, she is here. Now if you don’t mind...” He gestured to the tree stump a few yards away.  
“Um… You’re bleeding.” Podrick pointed to the side of Jaime’s face. Jaime quickly brought his hand up to his ear to find a trickle of blood running down his jaw and swiftly wiped it away.  
“It’s nothing. I’ll tell Brienne she needs to hurry.” He shut the door and turned back to Brienne.  
  
“What’s going on? Why are you bleeding? Did I hurt you?” She quickly started getting dressed but still found the time to study his face. “You look pale. Are you alright?” He walked up to her and pressed a kiss on her forehead.  
“It’s probably just a blood vessel or whatever.” She gave him a wary look while she clumsily tried to put on her boots. “What did I tell you about trusting me? Now hurry up, or your precious lady Sansa might throw a tantrum.” He slapped her on the ass and she squealed like a girl.  
“Don’t you do that!” she called. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck.  
“What? _This_?” He stepped back and grabbed her ass again before quickly letting go while she spun around to punch him.  
“Yes, that! And I don’t appreciate you insulting my lady.” Jaime shrugged indifferently.  
“She’s not _my_ lady.” Brienne rolled her eyes.  
“Yes. I know she’s not. I should go now. Will I see you tonight?”  
He kissed her fingers before he let go of her hand, and said, “A thousand dragons couldn’t keep me away.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they prepare for the next great battle, Brienne finds herself worrying about things, Jaime finally speaks to an almost-maester and has a rather interesting dream. Or is it a vision?

Brienne and Podrick walked in silence for a long while. When they past the armoury and Brienne could almost feel Podrick’s questions burning into her mind, she had enough.  
“Just say it, Podrick.” He didn’t look at her.  
“Say what?”  
“I don’t know. Whatever it is you _clearly_ want to say. Just spit it out.” She didn’t mean to sound as annoyed as she did, but she never seemed to be able to hide her true feelings from him.   
“It’s just...” _Ugh_. He could be so _slow_ sometimes. Brienne opened the door to one of the smaller halls in the castle and let Podrick bump into her on purpose.  
“I don’t have all day,” she said impatiently.  
“Well… It’s just… You and Ser Jaime.” Ah, _there_ it was.  
“Yes? What about us?”  
“I just wanted to let you know… That I’m happy for you.” Brienne stopped in her tracks, but Podrick didn’t notice until he was at least 5 steps ahead of her. That’s when he turned around, surprised. “What is it? Is something wrong?” Outside, the icy wind grabbed hold of one of the shutters on the tall windows, and caused it to slam into the old stone wall. It startled them both, but also enabled Brienne to snap out of her stupid stare.   
“Really? Do you really mean that? You don’t… think it’s wrong?” He gave her a warm smile.  
“Have you ever thought of me as a good liar?” Brienne snorted.  
“Good point.”  
  
Neither of them had to say anything else. There wasn’t much needed for them to have a mutual understanding. While they continued their way to Sansa, Brienne realised that somewhere along the way, Podrick had become her friend. Her only real friend. Except for maybe Jaime, but then again, he wasn’t really her friend, was he? Their relationship was as complicated as they were. With Podrick, things were always easy. She’d yell at him and he’d be kind to her. Then she would apologise and he would accept. They would argue and she would win. But he had always been there for her and although she could be very hard on him, he’d never let her down. Wherever she went, whatever choices she made, he was always right there, fighting beside her. He always had her back. And he _always_ believed in her. The realisation brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and cleared her throat. She told Podrick about the message she’d received from Maester Rowan. He asked her if she was planning on going back to Tarth.  
“I swore an oath, Podrick. There is nothing more important to me than fulfilling that oath and all that it stands for. You of all people should know that.” Podrick nodded.  
“I _do_ know that. But there is more to life than protecting Lady Sansa. You deserve more than that.” She didn’t expect his words to hit her as hard as they did. Could he be right? These last few days, she had a taste of what her life could be like and she wasn’t sure if there was a place for Tarth in that vision.  
“Maybe,” she answered quietly as she raised her fist to knock on the door to Sansa’s room, but Podrick touched her arm and looked at her.  
“You deserve to be happy, Brienne. _Truly_ happy.” She stared at him for a while, until she had gathered the strength to swallow back her tears.  
“Thank you, Podrick.” She knocked twice before Sansa called them inside.  


When Jaime entered the library it was quiet, except for the comforting rustling of an old book’s pages being turned continuously. The noise died as soon as Jaime’s boots gave away his presence and Sam stuck his head around the corner of a large bookcase.  
“Ser Jaime, how may I help you?” Jaime had never spoken with Sam before, but there was an innocence about him that made him seem trustworthy. The way Jaime looked him up and down made him feel uncomfortable, although there wasn’t much needed to accomplish that.  
“Are you even a _real_ maester?” Jaime asked. _Rude_. Sam fumbled around awkwardly.  
“Well, not yet. I plan on finishing my training after the great war is over.” _If you’ll be alive to see that day_, Jaime thought.  
“Is there someone here who _is_ an actual maester?” Sam shook his head.  
“I’m afraid I’m as close to a real maester as you can get around Winterfell these days.” He shrugged and turned around to walk away. “But if you don’t trust me, you don’t need to ask _me_ for help.” Jaime narrowed his eyes, warily.  
“Who says I need help?” Sam turned back to look at him, his face expressionless.  
“Isn’t that why you came to see me?” At first Jaime felt insulted, but then he realised that this was actually a genuine question. He sighed.  
“It is. Listen, I don’t want anybody in or outside of this castle knowing about this. So you better believe that I’ll hunt you down to the grave and beyond if I find out that you’ve talked about this to anyone. And I mean _anyone_.” For a coward, Sam didn’t seem to be all that impressed by his threat. Jaime figured this probably wasn’t the first time someone threatened him. Maybe he had gotten used to it.   
“You have my word.” How much would his word be worth? More than that of a Kingslayer, an oathbreaker, a man without honour? He didn’t have any reason not to trust him, other than not knowing him. It was enough. It had to be. “Why don’t you sit down?”  
  
From the look of things, no one ever came in to see Sam, because all the chairs on this side of the library were occupied by maps and books and rolls of parchment. He quickly made room for them to sit and gestured towards one of the chairs in a most inviting sort of way. Jaime sighed deeply before he lowered himself onto the wooden surface.  
“Well?” Sam asked, encouragingly.  
“It started a couple of weeks ago, a few days before I left King’s Landing. At first I thought it was just, you know, _stress_ or whatever.” He shrugged and rubbed his temple with his fingers. “But it seems to be getting worse.”  
“Headaches?” Jaime nodded.  
“Terrible ones. Like someone sends a firecracker through my brain. Or, you know, when someone throws a rock down the stairs to see how far it tumbles? I can’t even explain what it feels like. It’s unlike any other pain I’ve ever had. Worse than any other headaches, but also different.” He paused for a moment, and then added, “I don’t know.” The memory of the pain echoed through his body.  
“And how long do they usually last?” The look on Sam’s face didn’t give anything away. He seemed to look slightly puzzled but then again – he always looked like that.   
“Just a couple of seconds. Maybe 20. It varies, but I do feel like they have intensified lately.”  
“The frequency, you mean? Or the pain itself?” Jaime had to think about that for a second.  
“Both,” he answered eventually.  
  
They sat in silence for a moment, until Sam stood up and started going through some books on the other end of the table. “Any other symptoms? Vomiting, weight loss? Mood swings or dizziness? Reduced ehm… drive?” Jaime frowned at him.  
“Drive?” What followed were some of the most awkward gestures Jaime had ever seen.  
“You know, _drive_.” Ah. Now he got it. Good gods. It took a lot of effort not to burst into laughter at his awkwardness, or make some kind of snide remark.   
“Yes. I mean no! No reduced drive. Not that. That’s perfectly fine, but... I do have dizzy spells every now and then.” He grunted and clenched his jaw. “It makes me look like an idiot. I can’t sleep properly anymore and when I _do_ sleep, I have the strangest dreams. It’s probably nothing though. Maybe one of those _wights_ hit me in the head harder than I realised.” Sam, who was now hidden behind a huge book with a title that Jaime could not read, peeked over the edge of the book, but didn’t say anything.  Jaime let the silence float between them for a moment as it moved from him to Sam and back again. He wasn’t telling the complete truth and he had a feeling that adding his last symptom to the list, would make his theory of ‘nothing being wrong with him’, seem infinitely less likely. Sam was still flipping through the pages, a worrisome frown on his face.  
“There is one more thing...” Jaime said cautiously. It felt like someone tied a knot in his stomach. “I’ve been bleeding.” His left hand went up to the side of his face. “From this ear.” The heavy book landed on the table with a low thump, and Jaime searched Sam’s face for answers. “So... Do you know what’s wrong with me?”  
“Not yet, but there are multiple possible explanations. Some more plausible than others. I should probably examine you.” Jaime rolled his eyes.  
“Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.”

  
Hours went by without any sign of Jaime. Brienne expected to see him for their training, but he never showed, so she trained with Podrick and the northmen instead. Winterfell was slowly but surely starting to look like Winterfell again. With all their hard work, the insides of the castle and surrounding buildings looked as good as new, but some of the walls and roofs still needed some serious reinforcing. The castle was fine in comparison to their forces, though. The greatest army that ever was, was no more. They lost half of their unsullied as well as half of the dothraki and northmen. But the queen began to grow impatient. She wanted to destroy Cersei and her forces as soon as possible. Brienne thought it best to stay out of her way and spent most of her time with the people she knew and trusted; Podrick, Sansa and Jaime. Apparently some of the unsullied, wildlings and dothraki were still not over the fact that Brienne was a knight now. Or that she was given command over the entire left flank during the battle, although she had proven herself more than capable. Some of them were still not convinced, but their nasty looks and ignorant words did not hurt her anymore. She had almost grown immune to them. _Almost_.   
  
As she sat outside that afternoon, polishing her sword in the cold winter air, she found herself feeling some sort of sentiment towards the godforsaken place. It reminded her of Lady Catelyn, of the day she brought Sansa home, of fighting side by side with Podrick and Jaime. And of Jaime. Where _was_ he? She wanted to inquire after him, but didn’t want to fuel any rumours that were already spreading like wildfire. Besides, there wasn’t much love for Jaime Lannister here. When she was discretely scanning the great hall for any signs of him, she caught Tyrion staring at her with an omniscient expression on his face. She could feel her cheeks redden immediately and pretended to direct her attention to the empty plate in front of her. She wasn’t hungry, although she had barely eaten anything all day. That evening, Daenerys spoke to them. She divided the forces, told each of them who’d be in command and what their task would be when they would leave for King’s Landing at the new moon. That meant they only had about 19 days. Brienne looked around. Most of them were still recovering and the wildlings would be leaving as soon as they could. This was not their war. She wondered if 19 days would be enough. Tyrion said that they were willing to give Cersei one more opportunity to surrender peacefully, which caused the crowd the roar with laughter. Cersei would never give up, everybody knew that.  
  
Brienne retreated to her chambers early that evening. She wasn’t feeling too well and to be frank, she was worried. Worried about her father, about Jaime, and Sansa, and Tarth. Basically about everything. She wondered how Jaime would react to Daenerys’s plans to take over King’s Landing. She undressed in silence, put on her black woolen robe and sat down in one of the large chairs near the fire, with her knees up to her chest. It was extremely cold this evening. She had poured herself a cup of wine but she hadn’t touched it. It just stood there on the small table. The room was quiet. All she could hear was the crackling and sizzling of the fire. Even her mind was quiet. Tired. She never heard the footsteps approaching.   
“Brienne, it’s me. Can I come in?” She turned around to face the door, but for some reason didn’t immediately respond. “Brienne? It’s freezing out here.” She blinked a couple of times as you do when you’ve just woken up, and then pulled herself together and hurried to the door to let Jaime in. “Finally!” He called out. Jaime pressed his cold nose into her warm cheek when he gave her a kiss.  
“I was about to freeze my...” Brienne raised her eyebrows in disapproval. “Never mind. Do you have any wine?” She gestured toward the small table between the chairs near the fire and Jaime quickly helped himself to the Dornish red.  
  
“Where were you all day?” Brienne sat down with Jaime, and he handed her the cup of wine.  
“I had to see a man about a sword,” he replied with a smile. Brienne frowned.  
“Is something wrong with your sword?” Somehow, something still felt off with him. Like he was hiding something from her.   
“Not anymore. How was your day? You look tired.” When he looked up at her, he saw the light of the fire reflected in her eyes. Gods, her eyes were beautiful.  
“I _am_ tired. Did you hear about Daenerys’s plans regarding King’s Landing and your sister?” Brienne took a sip of the wine, but the taste immediately reminded her of the morning after last time she drank wine. _No thank you_.  
“I did. Tyrion told me, but let’s not talk about that now. The wind was extremely harsh today. I could’ve sworn it cut through my skin at some point.” He touched his face and checked his fingers as if to see if there was any blood on them. Brienne stared into the fire. So she couldn’t talk about where he’d been all day, and she couldn’t talk about the war either. What’s left to discuss?  
“Hey, what’s on your mind, _sapphires_?” She looked up at him. Sapphires? Jaime wasn’t sure about what to make of the expression on her face, so he stood up and walked over to her. She leaned back into the chair and stared up at him, as he placed his hands on the armrests. “You know, I just realised something,” he said, before kissing her forehead. “I’ve missed you today.” Brienne smiled. “Ah, there she is! Gods, I love it when you smile. You should do it more often. It lightens up your face.” He stroked her cheek and kissed her softly on the lips.  
“I try to. But it isn’t easy with you around all day.” Jaime threw his head back and hooted with laughter.  
“Wait, you’re making jokes now too? Who are you and what have you done with my Brienne?”  
“_Your_ Brienne?” She punched him in the shoulder and tried to get up, but he gently pushed her back down into the chair and took her face in his hand before kissing her. Brienne grabbed Jaime by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer as his hand found its way into her robe and to her breast. He moaned against her mouth while his hand roamed her body.   


It was amazing to Brienne how quickly they had come to know each others bodies so well. She didn’t have to think about every movement or feel terribly self-conscious _all_ of the time. Her hands and her lips knew their way around his and judging from the looks he gave her and the sounds he made, she was doing a well enough job. Jaime tried his best to please her and it was worth every ounce of effort. He was hungry for more, like he couldn’t get enough of her. They made love not once, but twice that evening, although one could argue that, in a way, they made love all night. It was hot and carefree, exciting and beautiful. Brienne’s lips moved over Jaime’s skin and her hot breath sent shivers down his spine. Jaime whispered her name in her ear and Brienne left bite marks on his shoulder and when they were done, she kissed the scars on his stump and he kissed the scars in her neck. He traced her freckles and she drew stars on his chest. If felt like they were telling each other everything, without saying a word. She had her wrists crossed under her chin as they stared at each other in silence. Jaime could’ve spent all night laying like that, but he could see her eyes grow tired. They seemed to darken as her eyelids drooped, fluttered open and fell shut, her long, white-blonde eyelashes quivering. She was fighting to stay awake.  
“You should go to sleep, you’re exhausted” he whispered into her hair. She hummed quietly - probably some kind of protest - but eventually she turned around and fell asleep within seconds. The sound of her slow breathing seemed to hypnotise Jaime and for the first time in days, he had no trouble falling asleep.   
  
In his dream, they were sparring in the snow. He felt happy and from the look on Brienne’s face, so did she. When Jaime got distracted for a second, Brienne knocked him over and sat down top of him, straddling him, with her hands on his chest. She roared with laughter like he had never heard her do before. They shared a moment of carefree joy together until she closed her eyes to kiss him. Their kiss was warm, rhythmic and smooth as silk. Eventually, she pulled away from him and slowly opened her eyes. There was something in the reflection of her eyes that startled him. He didn’t see himself, he saw a strange kind of darkness. An infinite ocean of grey waves, that washed over him and tightened around his heart like an iron fist.  
"Brienne?" She didn’t move. Not even a blink. He wasn’t even sure if she was still breathing. Her face was completely expressionless until it transformed into a grimace. "What's wrong?"  
_Nothing_. She stared at him, but not like earlier when they lay on their bed in silence. It looked equally as if she looked right into his soul, and as if she couldn’t even see him. Jaime leaned in to look closer, as if to check if it was really Brienne in there. There was definitely something wrong. Brienne’s sapphire eyes looked nothing like eyes anymore, but seemed to have transformed into windows that looked out over something terrible and sad. He saw dark waves violently crashing into rocks. Jaime felt the snow around them starting to melt, rapidly, unrealistically so. Where there used to be grass, the ground was black, cold and rough. It pulled on him, like it wanted to drag him underneath the surface and disappear into the depths of the earth.  
  
Brienne closed her eyes again. Jaime wanted to reach for her face but she grabbed his wrist so tightly it hurt.  
"Good god Brienne, no need to amputate my other hand," he tried to joke, although he barely recognised his own voice. He sounded terrified. When she opened her eyes again, a shock of horror went through Jaime’s body. It was still Brienne’s face, but with Cersei's eyes. She grimaced at him, a dark and ominous look on her face.   
"You were always the _stupidest_ Lannister," Brienne said, but the air surrounding them carried echoes of Cersei’s voice when it drifted past in quiet gusts of wind. He tried to move out from under her, but thick, black vines had exploded from the ground and held him down to the earth, like a dozen greedy hands gripping around his arms and legs.  
"Remember our cousin, Jaime? Remember what you did for me? Look." She touched his face with icy cold fingers like steel, and made him look to his right. He saw himself, leaning over his cousin Alton, slamming his iron chains down on his face. Alton kicked his legs but he didn't stand a chance against Jaime. The sound of him choking on his own blood made Jaime feel sick to his stomach.  
  
"Don't you remember how much you love me?" She turned his face the other way and he saw himself having sex with his sister, riding her, completely disassociated from the world around them, until a little boy appeared in the window. He saw himself grab the boy by his shirt and pushing him out the window into an endless fall.  
"Get off me!" He tried to scream at her, but his scream sounded little more than a muffled whisper.  
"Look at me. Look at me, the way you look at _her_". He blinked, and it was Brienne on top of him, smiling a crooked smile, laughing in her own voice, her sapphire eyes sparkling like stars. He blinked again, but this time she was truly gone and Cersei had taken her place. The earth beneath his heavy body had started to radiate an intense heat. He could feel it burning through his clothes. Cersei's stony grip around his face tightened even more, she made him look at her. Her eyes looked different, unnaturally bright, her irises ablaze with flickering green flames. _Wildfire_. He finally found a way to push her off him and tried to scramble to his feet. He stumbled over the thorny vines that seemed to try and reach for him to pull him down again.  
"Jaime!" He heard a familiar voice. _Brienne_. "Jaime, I need you!" The world had gone dark and there was smoke everywhere he looked. Smoke and dark green shadows. The sound of Cersei's evil laugh was crippling, paralysing.  
"Brienne, where are you? I cant.. I cant see you!"  
She was still calling for him. The yellow and green flames around him grew higher and higher. Then he heard something and looked behind him. All he could see were shadows and clouds of smoke, but the sound… Was it... a river?  
  
The wave came crashing over him and he tumbled around under its force. His golden hand weighed him down under the water. He heard Cersei's laughter, and Brienne's cries for help, the crashing of waves. He heard other cries too. While the undertow dragged and pushed him from side to side, he heard a strange voice. “_Burn them all_.” Jaime kicked his legs against the ground and finally found a tree branch that he could hold onto, to pull himself out the raging flood. The water was dark grey, like he had seen in Brienne's eyes. He heard children screaming and the combination of the sounds and the visions caused him to heave and vomit. _Blood_. Damnit. Suddenly, all went quiet around him. The dark waves had extinguished the fire and were finally calming down. A thin layer of  green smoke covered the dark surface of the water, but through it, he saw faces. Men, women, children. People he'd never seen before. And people he knew. Bran, Davos, Brienne.  
"Brienne!" He called, as he climbed down the tree. "Brienne, hold on, I'll get you out!" She didn't respond. She was just floating in pools of darkness, pale like a ghost. He jumped into the cold water and upon breaking the surface, he found himself back in bed, bathing in his own sweat. He could hear his own heartbeat pulsing in his ears and the sound was deafening. On his left, Brienne was sound asleep, the hint of a smile on her face. He sighed deeply. These fucking dreams would be the death of him. Unless something else would kill him first.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne discovers something neither she nor Jaime was prepared for. We all wonder if Jaime is getting better or not. Jaime asks Brienne a rather important question, forgetting to add the question mark.

Days quickly steeped themselves in night. Over two weeks had come and gone in the blink of an eye and the Wildlings had left and taken Tormund Giantsbane with them. The rest of the remaining forces were in full preparation for the march on King’s Landing. Brienne had, at last, told Jaime about the note she’d received from Maester Rowan.  
When he asked her what she was going to do, she answered, “I don’t know. I don’t _want_ to go back, but maybe I _have_ to. For my family. For Tarth.” He did not respond, and she wasn’t sure what that meant. All she wanted was for him to tell her what he thought she should do, but from the corner of her eye she saw him staring at the ceiling, a worried frown on his face. She didn’t dare ask him. Podrick had suggested asking Jaime to come with her and Brienne had scoffed and rolled her eyes at the idea.  
“Yeah sure. Why would he?” she asked, almost desperately.  
“Because he loves you. Don’t decide _for_ him, my lady.” She had ignored him, even though she knew he had a point. Podrick still had trouble deciding between calling her ‘lady’ and ‘ser’, and Brienne realised she had finally gotten used to being called ‘my lady’. Now she was back to square one with the whole ‘ser’ thing. It was weird and oddly satisfying at the same time.  
  
When Jaime had asked – and received - permission to remain in the North, a dozen people turned their heads to look from Jaime to Brienne. It made her feel beyond uncomfortable, but Sansa had given her a warm smile. If only Lady Catelyn could see her and Arya now. Brienne didn’t know what Arya went through and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know either, but Arya had very much changed since Brienne found her and the Hound on top of a hill, years ago. She had transformed, evolved, from a scrawny boyish girl with a tiny sword to arguably one of the best assassins in the North. Maybe even in all of Westeros. Could she leave them behind? The idea of defending the Stark girls until the day she’d die had always been rather obvious and natural to her. But not anymore, although she wasn’t quite sure about the alternative. For some odd reason, in her imagination, she could never see past her and Jaime setting sail for Tarth. She wasn’t any closer to deciding what to do and found herself feeling more and more conflicted and emotional about it all. Especially the last couple of days she’d been close to tears on numerous occasions, and she did not like it one bit.  
  
In two days time, Daenerys would take the unsullied to King’s Landing to give Cersei one more chance to surrender. Jaime had become increasingly uptight and Brienne didn’t really know how to cope with that, because every time she brought it up, he would swiftly – but not at all subtly - change the subject. He would disappear for hours on end and when she would ask him where he’d been, he’d always give some kind of vague and utterly unsatisfying answer. Maybe they weren’t doing as well as she thought. Maybe they had been living with their heads among the clouds and now the real world was calling. And maybe, in that world, there was no time and place for _this -_ them being together. Jaime still wasn’t sleeping well. Sometimes he’d be screaming in his sleep, calling for her. Whenever this happened, Brienne tried to wake hip up gently, but one time he had punched her in the face, which left her with a nasty bruise on the cheek. He felt bad for 3 days, kept apologising to her and could barely stand to look at her. He never wanted to tell what his dreams were about, though. Usually he’d tell her he couldn’t remember, but she knew it was a lie. There was no mistaking him screaming her name in his sleep, or crying, and it broke her heart. She wished she knew how to help him. Of course normally, Jaime was the talkative one of the two, but with him not wanting to discuss something, Brienne was lost. Most nights Jaime would wake up looking ghostly pale and sweating all over. With a damp cloth, Brienne would wipe his neck and forehead to calm him down, or she would stroke his hair while he rested his head on her chest until his eyes fell shut again. He’d hold on to her for dear life and would not want to go back to sleep. Most of the time he was too exhausted to win the fight and ended up sleeping in the safe comfort of her arms. She worried about him. A lot. This night was no different. Jaime had drifted off to sleep again, but softly moaned in pain when he did. She wondered if it was another dream, or just failing to stay awake that pained him most. Almost every morning Brienne would try to convince him to go talk to Sam about it but of course, he always refused. At least he didn’t seem to be as tortured by his headaches as before. She just wished the same were true for his nightmares.  
  
When Jaime woke up for the second time that morning, they had changed positions and Brienne had fallen asleep again, laying on her stomach with one knee up. She looked so peaceful and innocent that it made him feel sad. He sighed at his own emotions. They had become extremely exhausting lately, just as everything else really. Gently, he caressed the nape of her neck, until she woke up. It was Brienne’s voice that broke the silence.  
“I think I’m going to take a bath in the castle,” she said quietly and to no one in particular.  
“Good idea,” Jaime agreed as he got up.  
Brienne turned around in the bed to look at him. “What are you doing?”  
“Getting up.”  
She sat up straight and pulled the covers over her chest. “I can see that, but what for?” As she watched him get dressed she noticed he looked skinnier than before. Skinnier, and older too, but still very handsome. His trademark golden hair had changed as much as he had. No more gold, but sand and ash. Like someone had knocked him off his golden pedestal and into the real world.  
He gave her a cheeky Lannister smile. “For the bath we’re taking.” He didn’t look at her until he grabbed her trousers and shirt from the chair and lay them on the bed. “Well? Are you coming?”  
“So you’re coming with me?” she asked while she pulled the shirt over her head.  
“Well, that is what ‘we’ suggests, isn’t it?” She raised one eyebrow at him, but his smile made her immediately forget what she was even offended about in the first place.  
  
The sun was only beginning to rise over Winterfell, casting a soft yellow light over the snow covered grounds, as they walked to the castle in silence. Brienne felt uncomfortable at the way people stared at them, knowingly. When they passed the bakery, where steam was rising from the ovens and filled the air with the promising smell of freshly baked bread, a girl pointed at them as she pulled on her mother’s skirt. Brienne cleared her throat, visibly uncomfortable by the attention the girl drew to them. Jaime grabbed her hand and kissed her on the cheek.  
“Might as well give them something worth looking at,” he whispered to her and as always, she blushed.  
  
As they got undressed in the bathhouse, Brienne asked, “What if your dreams are in fact visions of what’s to come?” The idea crashed into him like a lightning bolt, but he refused to let it show.  
“Truly Brienne, you’ve been hanging around these strange Northerners for too long. My dreams have always been just that: _dreams_. Nothing more.” They did not speak much while they bathed. Jaime washed Brienne’s back with slow and gentle strokes, and stopped every once in a while to kiss a newly discovered inch of soft, pale skin. She sat on his lap in the soapy, steamy water while they kissed. Everything was quiet around them. Drops of water fell from Brienne’s hair to her shoulders and flowed down her chest in translucent ribbons, and Jaime kissed her passionately while his hand roamed her smooth back. When he took her breast in his hand and squeezed it, Brienne flinched and he drew back to look at her.  
“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” She didn’t know how to answer. There had been times where he had been way more forceful but he had never hurt her before.  
“No, it’s fine,” she said, shutting him up with a warm, wet kiss. And it was fine, although it would be a lie to say she wasn’t distracted by the tenderness of her breasts, as she pushed herself against him.  
  
They spent so much time in the bath that the water had turned cold and their hands and feet were so wrinkly they started to hurt. Jaime observed her drying herself off.  
“You know, I really dislike it when you do that,” she told him sternly.  
“Do what? Look at you?”  
“Yes.” She picked up her clothes from the stone steps and held them in front of her body, but Jaime walked over to her and made her lower her arms to take in her naked form in all its glory.  
“I look at you because I love you. It’s a look of admiration.”  
“_Hmpf_,” she grunted, not quite convinced. “Well, it makes me uncomfortable, so stop it.” He gave her a soft kiss and turned around to get dressed.  
“Fine. I need to go anyway. I have to see Tyrion about something.” Again with the cryptic choice of words.  
“Of course you do,” she mumbled.  
“What?”  
“Nothing.” When he passed her on his way out, he grabbed her breast once more while he gave her an overwhelming kiss. Brienne watched him leave, still holding her clothes in her hands. She wished she could believe him when he told her she was beautiful, but she really wasn’t. _Although_, she thought, _who’s to decide what beauty is_? From the corner of her eye she saw her reflection move in a foggy, floor length window. She hadn’t looked at her own reflection in ages. She always felt kind of afraid of what she would find, like some part of her hoped that she would find herself more beautiful than before. Every time she was disappointed upon finding the same pale, freckled face staring back at her. _Good god__s_, she thought to herself, _you fought a bear, you fought the Hound, you fought the dead and yet you’re afraid of your own reflection? __Pull__ yourself together. You call yourself a knight?_  
  
Slowly, she walked over to the window. Through the fog, she could see she was still the same, but for some reason, it didn’t upset her. She used her shirt to wipe the glass clean. The longer she looked, the more she felt like she wasn’t exactly the same after all. Something was different. Not her face, but her body, and it wasn’t just the new scars that she saw. She stepped closer to the window and analysed herself. Her arms, her legs, all lean, long and muscular. Nothing new. She traced her hips, her stomach and her chest with both hands, while she turned slightly to the left and then to the right, until she gasped and clapped a hand against her mouth. Thoughts started to wash over her, slowly at first, then violently crashing into each other, screaming for her attention.  
“Oh no,” she muttered to herself as a disturbing realisation sunk in, “No… no, no!”  
  
A few hours later she found herself back in the library to talk to Sam. She spent the time in between the bath and going to see Sam somewhere in the woods, sitting under a tree while her horse pushed the snow away with its nose to find some grass. Eventually she got so cold that she couldn’t feel her backside anymore and she decided not to avoid her current _situation_, but to face it head-on.  
“I’m sorry to bother you again,” she told Sam, “but I don’t know who else to turn to.” Basically, Sam couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. He gave her some tea to calm her down because she didn’t look too well.  
“You can stay here until you feel better. And if this is _really_ a problem… Well...” he lay a hand on her shoulder. “There is still time.” Brienne looked at him, wide-eyed, realising what he meant. At least half an hour had gone by before she had calmed down enough to pay attention to her surroundings. She got up and walked around.  
“What is that?” She asked, pointing at some odd construction of glass tubes and bowls, containing suspicious looking substances.  
“This is called _Twilight’s Blossom_,” Samwell answered, seemingly enthusiastic about someone finally showing some interest in his work. “And this is _Frost Wine_.” He held up a flask with a purple liquid, so dark it almost seemed black. “It’s very powerful. Dangerous, even.” Brienne walked over to the table and studied the _Twilight’s Blossom_’s blue flower buds with its pink leaves. “What do you use it for?”  
“They are very powerful painkillers but without the narcotic properties of, for instance, milk of the poppy.” Sam bumped into table and almost dropped the flask. He looked as though he suddenly remembered something _very_ important.  
“Are you alright?” Brienne asked. He stumbled around for a bit before he was able to reply.  
“Yes, it’s all fine. All fine.” He cleared his throat. “I should really continue this.” Brienne didn’t move. “If you don’t mind.”  
“Oh!” she called out, “Yes, sure, I’m sorry. I ehm… Thank you, Sam.”  
“Of course, anytime. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.” Brienne nodded and walked out of the library. She should go and find Jaime. And tell him.  
  
Three days later, Jaime sat by the fire in one of the halls, waiting for his brother to return from King’s Landing. He had just taken his second of four daily doses of medication. The liquid always left his tongue and teeth looking a nasty shade of purple, so Sam had given him a small pouch of _Bluethorn_ leaves to chew on. It left a strange tingling sensation on his tongue but got rid of the suspicious colour. This way, he had done a pretty good job of hiding his illness from the world. From Tyrion and Brienne. And it seemed to be effective. His headaches had become less invasive and less frequent, but sadly _Frost Wine_ did not keep his haunting nightmares at bay. His thoughts were interrupted by his brother, who came bursting through the door.  
“That stubborn piece of...” he grunted through clenched teeth as he poured himself a glass of wine and almost threw himself down on a chair.  
“Let me guess… She did not surrender?” Jaime asked.  
“Worse,” Tyrion answered. “She has the Golden Company. We were ambushed by Euron’s Iron Fleet, they killed one of the dragons. Cersei captured Missandei.” He shook his head and finished his wine in a few large gulps. “And beheaded her.” Jaime closed his eyes with a sigh.  
“Maybe I should go back and try to talk to her," he suggested as Tyrion stood up to pour himself another drink.  
“Don’t bother. Daenerys is… Outraged. There is no saving our dear sister now.” As he sat back in the chair, he threw his head back and stared at nothing in particular. “King’s Landing will burn. And everything and everyone in it. It won’t matter who starts it. Dragon fire, wildfire - the city will go up in flames and turn to ash.” He looked down at his cup and added, “Fire and blood.” It sent shivers down Jaime’s spine. _Burn them all_, he heard a familiar echo in the back of his mind. _Burn them all_.  
  
“Did you talk to her?” Jaime asked. “How did she look?” Tyrion studied his face, trying to find the real question he meant to ask.  
“She’s not pregnant.” He paused. “She never was. I’m sorry.” Jaime did not reply for a long while, but stared into the flames in silence.  
“Well, good,” he finally said. “It’s for the best. Nothing good can come from bringing another Lannister child into this world.” It was a sad thing to say, but Tyrion feared that he was right. He nodded and joined his brother in staring into the fire, trying to find an answer to the question if they would be able to stop this madness. Ironically, all they could see were flames, yellow and red. Fire, and blood.  
  
Sometime the next morning, Brienne walked the grounds with Sansa. She finally decided to tell her about the message from Maester Rowan.  
“What do you want to do?” Sansa asked as the castle disappeared in the fog behind them. Brienne sighed deeply.  
“I swore an oath to your mother. I swore that I would keep you safe and -”  
“And you’ve done an amazing job, Brienne. You’ve brought me home. You defended us against the White Walkers. I don’t expect you to stay by my side, holding my hand until I’m old and grey”. Brienne smiled into the distance. “You have a life to live.”  
“That may be so, but-”  
“No ‘but’,” she said, “I asked you what you _want_. Not what you think you _should_ do, but what you _want_ to do.” Brienne said nothing. “What about Jaime Lannister? What does he think of all this? You two seem happy together. I’m almost starting to believe that he has changed.” She said the last part more to herself than to anyone else. Brienne looked down at her feet and couldn’t stop her cheeks from flushing again. “What, you haven’t told him?”  
“I have, but... Things have changed since then.” Sansa grabbed Brienne by the arm and turned to face her.  
“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” Her blue eyes searched every fibre of Brienne’s being. “You seem different lately. I guess something really _has_ changed. What is it?” Brienne shuffled her feet around in the snow, her face growing more red still. Tears started to form in her eyes and suddenly, Sansa’s eyes widened and she let go of Brienne’s arm.  
“Seven hells Brienne, really?!” Brienne gave her a painful and guilty look, accompanied by a slow nod.  
“Please, don’t tell anyone. Not until I know what to do.”  
“Have you told him?”  
Brienne looked down at her feet again. “Not yet.”  
“Don’t keep this from him - tell him. Today.”  
  
“But what about my oath?” Brienne asked, tears now quietly streaming down her face. It hurt Sansa to see her this vulnerable, she had never seen Brienne cry before. In fact, she’d barely ever seen her smile.  
“What oath?”  
“The one I-” Sansa raised her eyebrows at her. “Oh… Really?”  
“Yes, really. You are hereby released from your vow. No need to worry about me, I’ve got Arya to keep me safe. If the Night King can’t get past her, no one can.” She took Brienne’s cold hands in hers and gave her a warm, confident smile. “Go to Tarth with Jaime, Brienne. Live your life. A knight like yourself should roam the world, not stay in Winterfell as a personal guard.” She squeezed her hand as Brienne tried to blink away her tears. “It’s alright Brienne. Jon and Daenerys will take over King’s Landing any day now, and the world will finally go back to normal. Don’t sit around waiting for life to happen. Make it happen yourself.” Brienne gave her a weak smile. She never saw Sansa’s tight embrace coming, but when it happened, she gave into it and held her for a long time, until they were both ready to head back to the castle.  
  
Sansa was right. She had to tell him. It had been four days since she found out. She’d blink and another day had come and gone. When she entered her chambers that evening, he was already waiting for her.  
“There she is. The lady of the hour.” Jaime walked over to press a kiss on her lips.  
“I’m no lady,” she answered automatically.  
Jaime frowned at her. “Why so serious? Is there something wrong?” She took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed.  
“I’m not sure if ‘wrong’ is the correct term here, but there is something I need to tell you.” Jaime sat down next to her.  
“If you’re going to tell me that you love me, I already know,” he tried to joke, but Brienne’s face was still serious, almost sad. Her words came out in a cold rush.  
“I’m only telling you this because I don’t know what do you and this concerns you too. I don’t want or _need_ anything from you, I just need you to know.” She took another deep breath, trying to find the right words, but they were all blurring together in her mind. It hurt Jaime to see her struggle this much.  
  
“You should go to Tarth,” he suddenly said. The raging madness of words inside Brienne’s mind immediately fell quiet.  
“What?” It was the only thing she could say. “I- But-”.  
“You should go to Tarth,” he repeated. “To see your father. To be the lady of Tarth. The new Evenstar.” He brushed her cheek, trying to comfort her. What was he thinking? Why bring this up _now_? Brienne couldn’t say anything. The words and the air stuck in her throat. This was not what she had planned. She tried to blink away her confusion, but mists of thoughts and emotions blurred her vision as well as her mind. “And I should go back to King’s Landing.” This snapped her out of it.  
“Wait, what? Why - No! No, this is all _wrong_.” She got up and walked aimlessly across the room. “This is not how it’s supposed to happen.”  
“How _what_ is supposed to happen? Wasn’t this what you wanted to discuss?” Her restlessness was contagious and made him get up too, confused.  
“No! I wanted – I was...” Her voice broke and the flood of tears overwhelmed her. “You don’t get it!” she yelled at him.  
“Tell me then, tell me what you want!” They were both pacing up and down the room now, arms waving and voices breaking.  
“I want… You can’t...” Finally Jaime reached for her face to make her stand still. His golden hand collided with her cheek but it didn’t hurt her any more than his words had already done. “This is all my fault," she said, sounding equally angry and heartbroken.  
“What is? Brienne, I don’t understand. Talk to me.” She pointed at her belly, furiously. “This is! This, this… _Child_!” She almost spat the word in his face and it hit him like taking a warhammer to the chest. Jaime dropped his hands to his sides. Well, this was certainly not how she wanted to tell him. Brienne couldn’t look him in the eye. She was now sobbing, quietly. “_Your_ child. Oh gods, a _baby,_” she wailed. Jaime lowered himself onto the bed, still staring at her belly.  
  
“You’re pregnant.” It wasn’t a question. Brienne rubbed her hands over her face.  
“I know!” she yelled desperately.  
“With my child.”  
“_I__know_!” she screamed at him. She collapsed onto the floor and buried her face in her hands, feeling lost. She had no clue what to do now. She wished she could pinch herself and wake up from this bad dream, to before any of this happened. Before she slept with Jaime Lannister. Before she got herself pregnant with his child. The sound of Jaime kneeling down in front of her, made her open her eyes. He was crying and the sight of him made Brienne forget about her own panic for a moment.  
“You’re crying,” she stated in disbelief. Jaime laughed through his tears.  
“So are you,” he said. He raised his hand and wiped away her tears, staring at her. Then he kissed her, and Brienne completely lost herself in their union. Her mind was racing, her thoughts ringing in her mind.  
“Marry me,” he said. Brienne’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened.  
“What? No!” He scooted closer to her and took her by the shoulders.  
“Yes! Be my wife. Please.” Brienne rolled her eyes. She wasn’t too upset to get annoyed with him.  
“You don’t have to do this. It’s still early, we could still…” She didn’t get to finish her sentence.  
“_Don’t_. Don’t even say it,” he warned her.  
“I’m not the motherly type, Jaime. I haven’t got the slightest clue about raising a child.” The tears started to well up in her eyes again.  
Jaime shrugged. “Neither do I.”  
“I don’t even know anything about children. I don’t know how to be a parent. I can’t do this.” He took her hands again.  
“You won’t have to,” he said. She looked up at him, confused. “We will do it together, you and me. Now, and always.” Brienne fell into his arms and broke down completely, sobbing against his chest. He held her for minutes without saying anything.  
  
Eventually, she drew back and wiped her face with her sleeve.  
“There are only two things you have to do,” Jaime said.  
“What?”  
“Trust me.”  
Brienne gave him a weak smile. “I think I can do that… And the other thing?” Jaime stood up and reached out his hand to her.  
“Marry me, Brienne.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne finally tie the knot, but of course, happy times never last in Westeros. Hold onto your dragons, folks, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

“Well...” Brienne looked at herself in the tall window of Sansa’s room. She looked like a giant doll. And an ugly one at that. “This is just _wrong_.” She tugged at the strings that pushed her breasts together in a corset that was at least three inches too small. “I look ridiculous,” she grunted through gritted teeth. The longer she stared at herself, the more the image of her wearing a wedding dress disturbed her. “And these fucking strings!” she exclaimed, ripping the delicate lace off the left side of the corset.  
“Careful!” Sansa called as she stopped Brienne from wrecking the dress completely. “I get it, it’s not very...” She glanced over the dress. “Not very you,” she concluded. That was putting it mildly. The white dress was too short, too tight and too… well, too white. Sansa chuckled when her eyes met Brienne’s. Her face was red and her eyes were wide with frustration. “Hold on, I might have just the right thing for you.”  
“I doubt it.” Sansa turned to a big chest in a corner of the room, while Brienne continued to mumble to herself how this was all a mistake, and she should’ve just said ‘no’ when Jaime begged her to marry him.  
  
At long last, Brienne had untied all the strings and stepped out of the dress that felt more like a cage than anything else. “I thought these things were supposed to make you feel beautiful,” she grumbled, “not… inadequate.”  
“Ssssh,” Sansa hissed at her, not looking up from the chest. Brienne ignored her.  
“Why do I even have to wear a dress? Why can’t I wear what I always wear?” Sansa scoffed behind her.  
“Sure, just wear your armour, why don’t you? I’m sure Jaime would love that.” Brienne pouted. Jaime. Unintentionally, her hand found its way to the small curve of her abdomen. She knew it was more bloating than anything else right now, still it gave her a strange sense of comfort being able to feel the way her body had changed. It felt like a reminder that this was really happening. There were countless reasons why Brienne never expected to have children of her own, not in the least needing a man to make it happen. She had often told herself she didn’t even want children. You can’t be a knight and a mother. You can’t have children and be lady commander of the King’s Guard. Some things just don’t go together. Like lemon cakes and gravy. Like Brienne and babies. She sighed. How in the world was she going to make this work?  
“There you go.” Sansa’s voice pulled Brienne out of her own mind and into the real world again. She held up some kind of fabric, ivory and gold.  
“What in the seven hells is that?”  
Sansa gave her an insulted look. “This,” she held the fabric up to Brienne, “is going to be your wedding costume.”  
Brienne raised her eyebrows in scepticism. “Costume?”  
“If you don’t want to wear a dress on your wedding day, then you don’t wear a dress. Just please, please...” She folded her hands together as if she was about to pray. “Let me make you a cloak.”  
Brienne rolled her eyes. “Fine.”  
  
  
Coming to terms with the pregnancy hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing. Most days, she felt uncomfortable, sore, tired of feeling sick and sick of feeling tired. It was hard for her to accept her changing body. Her breasts had grown significantly and she was starting to show. Jaime did not seem to mind. On the contrary. He worshipped every inch of her transforming body. Every single night, he would slowly undress her and when they lay in the peaceful silence of Brienne’s bed, he’d spend close to an hour drawing random little figures on her skin. He gently caressed her growing belly, leaving such long trails of kisses, it made Brienne lose count. It hadn’t always been like that, though. The first week after telling him there had been a lot of arguing, accompanied by a decent amount of tears.  
Only once more, Brienne had made the mistake of bringing up terminating the pregnancy in order to give them both their freedom, but when Jaime asked her, “Is this truly what you want?” she simply could not get herself to say it. Even though she had never expected this – wouldn’t have believed anyone if they’d told her this would happen – she had already come to love their baby, no matter how tiny it was. Most arguments were about him not letting her train and trying to control her behaviour, which was not something Brienne would accept. One time, Jaime found her sparring with Podrick and he told her she should stop sword fighting until she had the baby.  
Brienne had gotten angry with him and yelled, “I’m pregnant, not a cripple”. When she saw the look on his face, she immediately regretted snapping at him. Luckily, Jaime wasn’t the type of man to stay angry for long, although Brienne found he was rather persistent. A lot of time and effort had gone into convincing Brienne that he _truly_ wanted to marry her, not just to save her reputation. But - at last - she had agreed, and now their nuptial hour drew on a pace.  
  
The wedding ceremony was perfectly simple. Sansa had made a mesmerising costume of ivory and gold with dark blue embellishments. It was well fitted and unlike anything Brienne had ever seen. She looked powerful yet gentle, feminine but strong. The trousers were wide and flowy, so that they almost looked like the skirt of a dress. The top was rather tight around the waist for Brienne’s taste, but all in all it made her feel more confident than she could have imagined feeling on this day. It was all still quite surreal as she didn’t have a lot of time to get used do the idea of getting married. Jaime had insisted on having the wedding as soon as possible. Brienne wasn’t quite sure why, and didn’t bother to ask. Or maybe part of her didn’t dare to. But here they were, together, somewhere in the woods near a frozen waterfall, in front of a septon Tryion had found in god-knows-where. As there weren’t any septs to be found in leagues around Winterfell, they decided on having the ceremony outside. It was a sunny day, but the crisp cold and the excitement had turned Brienne’s nose and cheeks a bright red.  
The frosty winds of winter blew powdery snow from the tree branches onto her hair and shoulders. When Jaime first laid eyes on her as she climbed down her horse, he was lost for words. She looked stunning and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but he felt so, _so_ proud of her. Of course, none of Brienne’s family members were there, so Podrick gave her away instead. She had asked Sam to write to her father with the news of the wedding. To tell him that she would set sail to Tarth as soon as Daenerys and Jon had taken the _Iron Throne_. She thought it best not to mention the little Lannister lion cub growing inside her just yet.  
  
Podrick walked up to Brienne and offered her his arm. “Are you ready?” he asked her. She didn’t know how to respond. To be honest, she felt rather scared. She looked to Sansa for any last words of encouragement.  
Sansa took her trembling hands and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. Be bold, be confident.” She straightened the sleeves of Brienne’s costume. “You're one of the bravest people I know. Surely you're brave enough to marry Jaime Lannister.” When it was time for Podrick to hand the cloak to Jaime, he granted her one of his reassuring smiles and she instantly felt better. The cloak was spectacular and the shimmering beads glistened in the sunlight as Jaime draped it around her shoulders. Instead of rose and azure, the quarters of the Tarth sigil on the back of the cloak were Lannister red and sapphire blue, and instead of a sun, there was a proud golden lion in the middle of the heraldry. It was perfect, although frowned upon by the septon.  
“This is all very unconventional,” he’d mumbled when they were waiting for Sansa to convince Brienne that this wasn’t a mistake and that everything would be just fine.  
“It is,” Jaime agreed. “Just as it should be. There is _nothing_ conventional about Brienne of Tarth.”  
  
Brienne had made it very clear that she would still be Brienne of Tarth - no more, no less. “And I’m still no lady,” she added for good measure, on the eve of their wedding.  
“Oh, but you are,” Jaime had answered, a cheeky grin on his face. “My lady Lannister of Tarth. Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the Sapphire Knight.” He had his arms wrapped around her waist from behind and kissed her neck between every name he gave her. “Mother of Lions.” She elbowed him in the stomach.  
“_Lion_,” she corrected him, “Just one, thank you.” They both laughed, and their shared happiness filled the room with more warmth than any fire could have done.  
  
When they were named husband and wife, there were no tears, no unnecessary words. As their hands were bound together in smooth silk, they vowed to love, honour and protect each other from this day until their last. It was almost quiet enough to hear the sunbeams warm their faces, until the septon spoke again.  
“Let it be known that Brienne of house Tarth and Jaime of house Lannister are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.” Never once did they break eye contact. Their connection was strong enough to make them both forget about the world around them. They spoke the final words together: “With this kiss I pledge my love” and it seemed to Jaime that just for a moment, the sun shone a little bit brighter than before.  
  
There was no great feast, no grand celebration. When they returned to Winterfell as husband and wife, life proceeded as usual, whatever that meant. Jon Snow had congratulated them and strangely enough, so had Bran, although the look he had given them gave Brienne chills. It wasn’t a look of hatred, nor of repulsion. It was a look of _knowing_. Brienne had informed everyone during their last council meeting that she and Jaime would be going to Tarth after the _Last Battle_, but she still accompanied Sansa to advise her and to make sure that she and Arya would remain safe in Winterfell. On the afternoon of their wedding, Daenerys spoke of her plan to take back the_ Iron Throne_, a fortnight from that day. Any innocent lives lost would be a direct result of Cersei’s stubbornness.  
  
The days went by swiftly and quietly. Brienne’s stomach had now grown enough to make wearing her beloved armour feel uncomfortable, and soon she wouldn’t be able to wear it at all. At least she wasn’t feeling as tired and sick as she was before and life as a married couple wasn’t nearly as strange as she had expected it to be. They were slowly preparing for their journey to Tarth, all the while arguing about names for the child. Jaime was certain it was a girl. Maybe even two. Every time he brought up the possibility of having twins, Brienne would roll her eyes.  
“It’s just one baby. And it’s probably a boy.” There was no convincing him though. He would just shrug, grin, and walk away naming their child something strange and off-putting. Sadly, it wasn’t all good news. Jaime’s headaches had increased and one morning, only a few nights after their wedding, she found blood stains on his pillow. Still, Jaime insisted that he was fine, that everything would be okay. He just needed to get out of the North and soak up some sunlight in Tarth. All Brienne could do, was pray he was right.  
  
  
All the candles in the world wouldn’t be enough to make Sam’s room in the tower less draughty. "It's not looking good." Sam lowered his eyes. "Not good at all. The size of your liver is still increasing, and your left pupil is slightly dilated and won’t respond to light as it should." He let the words float between them, allowing room for them to sink in.  
"So this is it," Jaime said slowly. Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he decided against it and instead gave a slow but unmistakable nod.  
"I'm so sorry," he eventually said. Jaime swallowed hard. He was hurting, but not because of the news. He hurt because he realised he had been lying to himself and what was worse - to Brienne.  
"How long?" There was no need to form coherent sentences. Sam knew what he meant.  
"Only the gods know for certain. I've been working on something to slow down the process but... I don’t know how much time that will give you."  
  
All he wanted was to make life better, to be better than he used to be, and to be with Brienne. To raise their child, the way he never got to be a father to his other children. And now he wouldn't ever get the chance. Sam's voice cut through the silence like a knife.  
"I really am so sorry, ser Jaime. I wish there was a way-"  
"It's alright Sam. You did more than anyone else would have done." He looked at him. "Thank you." And that was it. There was nothing left to say. He was dying. Sam left him alone in the tower room where they’d been meeting up in secret, for weeks. The room where he had run all his tests, completed all his examinations. Where they had discussed the effects of _Twilight’s Blossom,_ _Frost Wine _and_ Bluethorn _leaves_._ Where Sam was making him better. Where he would find a way to give him a long and happy life. Sam would give him _t__ime_. Time to become a father and a lord at last, just as his father, Tywin, would have wanted. Time to create and pursue dreams of his own – a life with Brienne, a family. An actual family, built on love and strength and honour. But now, there was nothing. No thoughts, no fear, no pain. Just silence as the sound of Sam’s heavy footsteps disappeared down the halls. Jaime looked around the room. It was dark and damp and cramped with stuff: tables full of maps and piles of books. Glassware and strange objects, and in the corner, maester Lewin’s old chest with potions. With _poisons_.  
  
That evening, the night before the _Last Battle_, Jaime had fallen asleep in one of the chairs near the fire. His worries had worn him out. He had the same dream he’d been having for weeks – always slightly different, but ending the same. He was crawling through King’s Landing on his stomach – the world around him was on fire. Walls of black and green smoke made it impossible to see where he was going and he didn’t even know if he was going in the right direction. All he knew was that he had to get to Brienne. As always in his dreams, he was too late to save her. This night in particular, as he heard her cry for him, heat from the flames burned in his throat and lungs. He needed water. He made his way through layers of dust and ash, until he found a pool of dirty water on the ground. Exhausted beyond words, he used his hand to bring the cooling liquid up to his mouth. It tasted like iron. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw Brienne’s lifeless body in front of him and realised he was drinking from a pool of her blood. Cersei stood towering over them, laughing a cruel and merciless laugh with those flaming green eyes. He woke up coughing into his fist, trying not to wake Brienne who had already gone to bed. Maybe she was right. Maybe his dreams _were_ visions. _Enough_, he thought. _No more._ _This __has to end._  
  
Brienne wasn’t sure what caused her to wake up, but when she did, she felt an uncomfortable emptiness behind her back.  
“Jaime?” she whispered. Outside, she heard one of the horses whinnying, and Brienne turned around to find Jaime’s side of the bed cold and empty. A jolt of fear punched the air out of her lungs as she jumped up and hurried outside. She found him saddling the horse that had brought him to Winterfell. And now that same horse would take him away again. A stone the size of Harrenhal dropped from her heart to her stomach and weighed her down so much she could barely set one foot in front of the other.  
  
“They’re going to destroy that city. You know they will.” He didn’t look at her, but clenched his jaw in frustration when he heard her fragile voice stir the cold evening air. He had hoped to be long gone by the time she woke up. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye like this, to face the pain he was about to inflict on her. She took another step towards him and although he tried to ignore her, he couldn’t help but look at her when she took his face in her cold hands.  
“You’re not like your sister. You’re not. You’re better than she is. You’re a good man and you can’t save her.” Jaime took her hand and pulled it down and away from him.  
“Is that what you think I’m doing? _Saving_ her?” He turned away from Brienne and tightened one of the saddle straps. “There is no saving her. But I can still save you.” Brienne frowned in confusion, too afraid to move.  
“Me? I don’t need saving, I’m fine, see? We’ll be safe right here and when this is all over we’ll go to Tarth and-”  
“You really believe that?” His voice was cold. “You think that you are safe? You’re not _safe_.” Finally, he turned back to her and took her hands in his with a deep sigh. “Our child will never be safe as long as Cersei lives. She has lost _everything_. She lost her children, she is about to lose her crown, she lost me.” He lowered his eyes. “She lost me to you. And she will never forgive you for that. Time is running out for me. I’ve tried to make things right, but it’s too late.”  
“Time? What are you talking about?”  
“I’ve done too many wrongs. A couple of good deeds can never make up for what I did. I see that now.” He wanted to let go of her and turn back to his horse, but she grabbed his arm.  
“Don’t say that. I know what happened with the Mad King, I know you tried to save millions of innocent people.”  
“Like I said, a couple of good deeds can’t make up for the wrongs I’ve done. And now there is only one thing left to do. To end all of this.” She couldn’t stop the tears flooding down her face as she was frantically looking for things to say. _Anything_ that would convince him to stay.  
“But we were supposed to go to Tarth,” she said desperately, her voice breaking with every word. “We were supposed to stay together.”  
“And we still might,” he said, as he pulled on the stirrups. “I swear to you Brienne, I will do whatever it takes to get back to you. Whatever it takes.” Jaime was now fighting back the tears, but he gathered what little he had left of his strength to look at her once more, and said, “Promise me one thing. _Promise_ me you won’t follow me.” He kissed the tears on her cheek and then her lips. “I need your word. Stay safe. For me.” He placed his hand on the curve of her belly and forced his face into a smile. “For the little cub.” She nodded slowly and although she couldn’t bear to look at him, she let him kiss her one more time.  
“I love you, Brienne. Never forget that.” He didn’t give himself any more time. He knew that if he stayed any longer, he wouldn’t be able to leave and so he pulled himself onto the saddle and rode off through the gates. All he heard was the sound of Brienne’s sobs and his own heart breaking. He never looked back.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne struggles to make the right decision. So does Jaime. We follow at least one of them on the journey to King's Landing.  
Get ready, it's about to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: According to the people that have the time and energy to calculate fictional distances, the journey from Winterfell to King's Landing takes about two weeks on horseback. For the sake of storytelling, I took the liberty of shortening the distance, making it a journey that lasts about 4 days.

An overwhelming sense of loneliness took hold of her heart. She had felt alone in the world more times than she could count, but never before had she felt so lost, shattered, torn. She cried until the wind carried her sobs away and seemed to freeze the tears on her face. Both time and Brienne stood still in the deserted courtyard, rooted to the frozen ground. A dreadful tangle of her fears, worries and disbelief had crept down her ankles and held her to the same spot for the longest time, staring at the gate, hoping that Jaime would have changed his mind and turned around. Hoping that she would very soon be able to wrap her arms around his shoulders and never let go.  
  
Was there anything she could have said to make him stay? Should she have begged him not to leave her? Although she tried to remember what they had said, her mind was foggy and the words had already started to bleed into each other, until she could no longer distinguish one from the other. The sky was black as ink, ablaze with silvery blue stars that seemed cold and even further away than usual. It felt like her heart and her mind were screaming at her, begging for her attention, fighting to prove which one was right. She wished there was a way to make them both shut up. It was just too much, leaving her unable to make sense of her own thoughts.  
  
What am I supposed to do now, she wondered, looking up at the sky as if to find an answer in the stars. But they were disappointingly quiet as always, almost cruel. Well, whatever it was that she was going to do, this certainly wasn’t helping anything. _What has become of you_? She asked herself. _Sobbing over a man in a courtyard in the middle of the night_. Was it wrong for her to feel this way?  
  
How could loving someone so much be wrong? She could almost hear Podrick’s voice in her mind, saying, “You’re too hard on yourself, my lady.”  
Once she was convinced Jaime wasn’t coming back and she was so cold her bones were starting to ache, Brienne went back inside, her neck and shoulders tired from the tension, head pounding and eyes swollen. Nothing seemed to be able to calm her down. There was a restlessness that possessed her, like she was fighting time itself. Part of her wanted to scream, or shatter something against the wall, but it wouldn’t change anything. She ended up pacing up and down the room for what seemed like hours, arguing with herself. Cursing herself. Cursing Jaime.  
  
She desperately tried to remember if she even asked him to stay. Would it have made a difference? With a deep sigh, she sat down at the table. _Promise me you won’t follow me_. She tapped her foot nervously on the stone tiles. _Stay safe._ She bit the skin around her thumbnail until it was bleeding. _For me_. Her stomach clenched. _For the little cub_. Her head was spinning.  
  
“Well, _fuck_.” Before she realised what she was doing, she had put on her clothes and was well on her way towards the castle. Before long, she found herself in front of Sansa’s chambers with her fist raised, ready to knock. She couldn’t possibly wake her up now. But there was no time, she couldn’t just leave her and Arya without saying goodbye, not knowing if she would ever see them again. Or maybe she could. Maybe that way, it would be easier. After all, Sansa had released her from her vow. She had no idea how long she had been standing there, her knuckles resting against the wooden door, when it suddenly opened and Arya’s sceptical face appeared.  
“Ser Brienne? What are you doing here?” She whispered, as she studied Brienne’s face. When she realised her eyes were red and swollen and her clothes were messy and, well, it was the middle of the night, she let her inside the room, without waiting for an answer.  
“My lady, I’m so sorry to disturb you this late.” She turned to Sansa, who was sound asleep in her bed. Arya sat down near the fire and resumed sharpening her dagger.  
“This early, you mean. It’s practically morning already,” Arya said in her typical, smooth, flat voice. Brienne rubbed her hands over her face.  
“I know, I know. I-”  
“He left, didn’t he?” Arya interrupted. “He’s gone back to that sick bitch he calls a sister.” She didn’t even look at her but just stared down at the blade, the reflection of the flames dancing across her face. She sounded so cold, so hateful.  
  
Brienne swallowed hard as she put her sword down against the wall and walked towards her.  
“He did. He has. But not-”  
“I _knew_ he hadn’t changed. People like that, they never change.” Brienne clenched her fists. It wasn’t true. He _h__ad_ changed.  
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” She asked while she stepped towards the fire, glancing back at Sansa.  
“I don’t need a lot of sleep.” Arya paused, following Brienne’s gaze and then continued, as if Brienne had asked her something else, “She can’t sleep when I’m not here. That’s why I stay with her.”  
“Right. Well, listen-” She didn’t get to finish her sentence, because suddenly Oathkeeper had lost its balance and fell with a sharp clang against the iron candelabra that was standing next to it. The noise caused Sansa to wake, startled.  
  
“What was that?” she asked, out of breath from being awoken so rudely.  
“I’m so sorry to wake you, my lady,” Brienne said as she walked over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed, “but I need to talk to you.” Sansa looked from Brienne to Arya, who shrugged indifferently as she continued to draw steel on stone. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” Brienne continued. This made Arya turn around to look at them. Sansa gave them both a puzzled look.  
“Leave? Where to?” she asked.  
Arya huffed sarcastically. “I can’t believe it. You’re going after him?”  
Sansa shook her head, still confused. “Going after whom?”  
“The Kingslayer. He left her, yet she is running after him. I thought you were better than that.” She almost spat the words at her and Arya’s obvious disappointment felt like the twist of a knife in her heart. At the same time, Brienne felt her own anger creep up her throat and flushing her cheeks.  
  
“His name is Jaime and pardon me my lady, but you don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arya raised her eyebrows at Brienne and breathed in to say something, but Sansa didn’t let her.  
“You’re right, she doesn’t.” She glanced warningly at her sister, who sat down in a chair next to the bed, spinning the dagger around in her hand with dazzling skill. “But are you sure you want to do this? If he left you then maybe...” She could barely say the words, afraid of what they would do to Brienne. “Maybe he doesn’t want you to follow him.” Brienne gave her a weak but genuine smile.  
“Oh I know he doesn’t.” Her smile faded. “But I fear for his life. He’s gone back to kill her. To kill the queen.” Arya dropped the knife in her lap.  
“He _what_? Are you sure?” Brienne nodded.  
“Yes. He is convinced she won’t rest until she’s destroyed me. Destroyed _us_.” She looked down at the way she was nervously plucking at the skin around her fingernails. “I know I promised to stay with you until after the _Last Battle_ but-” Sansa reached for her hand and squeezed it, the same way lady Catelyn had done when Brienne pledged herself to her.  
  
“Of course you can go. But what about…” She glanced down at her belly and Brienne felt that she was blushing when Arya followed her gaze. Brienne shook her head, her eyes cast downward.  
“I can’t let him do this alone. He’s going to get himself killed. Cersei will see him coming from miles away. I can’t let him… I can’t let him die.” Arya stared at her.  
“So it’s true. You love him. You really do love him. You poor fool.” Sansa shot an accusing look at her, which Arya returned with a shrug. “What? Love is a disease. People die from it. He’ll be the end of you.” Brienne averted her eyes.  
“Possibly. From this day until the end of my days. That’s what I promised. And I intend to keep that promise.” Slowly, the hardness seemed to fade from Arya’s face. “I don’t expect either of you to understand,” Brienne continued, “I just need you to give me leave to try and save him. From Cersei. From himself.” Arya nodded slowly, almost understanding, but Sansa was the one who spoke.  
“You have already been released from your vow. You don’t owe us anything, you don’t serve anyone but yourself. You and your baby. And for his or her sake I beg you… please be careful Brienne. Please come back safely.” Tears started to well up in her eyes again, but she willed them away.  
“I will do whatever it takes,” she said determined as she got up. “You have my word. There is nothing more hateful than failing to protect the ones you love.”  
  
Jaime had decided to follow the King’s Road until past the Inn at the Crossroads and Harrenhal. From that point on he would have to get off the main road if he wanted to get to King’s Landing unseen. He avoided staying at inns and only crossed important bridges during the night. In fact, he did most of his travelling at night. On multiple occasions he thought he heard Brienne behind him, but whenever he looked, she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. He told her to stay in Winterfell and she’s a woman of her word. Whenever he thought of her – which was quite often – a sad smile appeared on his face. He wondered if he made the right decision by leaving. The idea that it wasn’t too late, that he could still go back, only made it worse. He could beg for forgiveness and they could set sail for Tarth and… Who was he kidding? He probably wouldn’t even make it to Tarth.  
  
Every night he would look up at the sky and talk to Brienne in his mind. This night was no different. He lay on his back with one hand under his head and the golden one on his stomach.  
“Please forgive me,” he whispered into the night, hoping that the wind would carry his plea back to Winterfell. When he closed his eyes under the veil of night, he prayed to the Seven to keep her and their baby safe. And to let him see them one more time. _Please_.  
  
Brienne had never used a map more often than she had on this particular journey. She was so determined to find him that she could barely allow herself and the horse to take a break. Everytime she tried, she got a terrible stomach ache from the possibility of missing him by a few hours. And so, every time she got off her horse to relieve herself in the high grass by the side of the road, she’d let out a deep sigh and get back on her horse to continue their way. She figured Jaime’d probably stay on the King’s Road until past Harrenhal. After that it was up to the gods if she would be able find him before he got to King’s Landing. A good dose of fortune and how well she knew him would increase her chances.  
  
She wasn’t far from the Inn at the Crossroads when her horse suddenly whimpered in pain. Brienne almost fell off when it stumbled off the side of the road, but stabilised herself just in time to get off safely. The horse wasn’t gravely injured, she had merely pushed him too hard and now she had to pay the price by walking the rest of the way.  
“No, please, just a little further. Please...” She pressed her face against the horse’s neck, fighting the tears. Not because she was sad, but because she was exhausted and in pain, and needed the damn horse to carry on. She pulled on the reins. “I know you’re tired, but so am I. We can’t stop now.” The horse looked at her with sad and tired eyes. A look of pity.  
Brienne wiped the tears off her face with her sleeve. “Fine.” She took the horse by the reins and led him down the King’s Road until at last, they reached the inn.  
  
Brienne remembered the fat baker’s boy from a year ago. “I need another horse,” she told him that evening. The boy nodded so ferociously his chins quivered and shook. “Make sure he is strong and fast.”  
“Of course, my lady, right away.”  
He had served her soup and freshly baked bread, talked for what seemed like an eternity about Arya and reminiscing about the last time they’d met. She thanked him when she was about to leave. They stood outside the inn as they had done the year before. She wished Podrick was here with her now. She hadn’t gone to say goodbye to him, because she knew he would insist on coming along, but this was something she had to do alone. She did, however, leave him a letter, explaining and asking him to look after Sansa and Arya in her stead. _Although_, she thought after she’d slipped the note under his door, _perhaps the only one who needs protection is the one who gets in Arya’s way_.  
  
Brienne attached her bag to the saddle and scratched the horse’s neck. “Why don’t you stay for the night, my lady? You look exhausted.” She sighed.  
“That’s because I _am_ exhausted. But I can’t stay.” He looked at her with questioning eyes. “I have to find someone.” He gave her a strange smile. “What?”  
“I’m sure you will. They say you always do and as far as I know, it’s true.” Brienne pulled on the saddle strap, not looking up.  
“_They_?”  
“The people. Knights and commoners that have travelled south since the _Battle of Winterfell_. They spread tales of how we have you to thank for the Starks reclaiming Winterfell. Although some still find it troubling that you are...” he paused awkwardly. “That you’re a lady. But they tell everyone who’ll listen how you’ve slain lord Stannis and saved lady Sansa from the Boltons. How you defeated the Hound in single combat.” Brienne felt her cheeks redden. “Did you not know?”  
  
He didn’t wait for an answer, but handed her the bread he made for her and continued, “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Good luck finding him.” Brienne gave him a suspicious look over her shoulder.  
“_Him_? And who would that be?” The boy shrugged innocently.  
“The Kingslayer. I heard he was seen just this afternoon, a few miles down the road. Seemed to be heading for Harrenhal.” The embers of an exhausted flame seemed to burst back to life within Brienne. She didn’t even hear the rest of what the boy was saying.  
“Right. Thank you ehm...” she said, as she mounted her horse, not nearly as smooth as she had wanted to.  
“Hot Pie,” the boy answered kindly. “Oh, and congratulations.” He gestured toward her stomach. Brienne shifted in her saddle as she felt her cheeks redden.  
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Hot Pie.” His smile was friendly, almost proud, accompanied by a firm nod. Brienne wheeled her horse around. Towering over him, she looked into his dark brown eyes. “And one more thing...” she said. “His name is Jaime Lannister.”  
  
Darkness had fallen over the hills halfway between Harrenhal and King’s Landing. Brienne had cursed every single time she had to get off her horse to pee in the bushes. There was no time to lose, not now that she was so close. The sky was overcast and therefore it was almost too dark to continue. Especially since she was staying off the King’s Road now. Her back was sore, she was thirsty and hungry and tired but she couldn’t allow herself to stop. She was too afraid that she would be too late, that she wouldn’t be able to find him. It was no good continuing in this darkness though, not with the pain and exhaustion clouding her sense of orientation. She just decided to make camp at the base of the next hill, when suddenly, she spotted a column of smoke rising from the trees not too far away. Her heart jumped.  
“Jaime,” she whispered.  
  
Jaime stood in the doorway and looked around the ruins. There were no stars, no moon to be seen and a strange fog had started to rise from the earth. He had never been to a place that felt more ominous than Clover’s Crossing. Completely deserted, the walls of the buildings where breaking down as nature was reclaiming the ground on which this small settlement was once built. The wind seeped through the cracks of the doors and the walls and sent shivers down his spine, but it beat sleeping out in the woods, on the dank and dirty ground.  
He’d built a fire in the old hearth, setting layers and layers of leaves, dust and oblivion on fire, sending thick clouds of dark smoke through what little there was left of a chimney. Of course, he should’ve cleaned the fireplace out first. Brienne would have. After all, it was the first thing she’d learnt when she came to the north: how to keep a fire going. She sure knew how to keep it warm enough. He wondered what she was doing right now. Would she be angry with him? _Probably_. He sighed.  
  
In one of the corners of the cabin, Jaime had found what resembled a mattress, although it was little more than a bundle of straw in a linen sack. Jaime put the mattress in front of the fire and lay down facing the flames before he closed his eyes.  
“Brienne,” he whispered into the room. It was like summoning her. Her face appeared before him, her beautiful radiant smile and her sparkling blue eyes. He breathed in deeply and could easily smell her sweet skin until he fell into a dreamless sleep. After a little while, he woke up from the sensation of a warm hand on his shoulder. “Brienne?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his eyes still closed. “Is that you?” The hand slid down his right arm. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find out it wasn’t her at all, although no one had ever touched him like she did. There was nothing quite like it. She bent over him, her breath against his neck as her arm wrapped tightly around his chest from behind.  
“I’m here,” she whispered. He whirled around on the mattress and opened his eyes, but the room was dark and cold and quiet. No Brienne. Jaime sighed and let himself down on the mattress again, his good arm and his maimed one crossed behind his head. _What if I never see her again?_ Although he had his eyes closed, he could feel the tears sting. _Did I tell her how much I love her_? An unexpected, rhythmic noise outside caused his eyes to fly open.  
  
What little light there was left in the world tonight, was lost and forgotten in this dark, abandoned place. Brienne had followed the smoke, expecting to find fire, but now she found herself trapped in a tangle of weathered buildings and wild trees. Even in the dark she knew she had never seen trees like that before in her life. Her horse was unwilling to lead the way, so she dismounted and led him carefully through the ruins of the village. She’d heard of this place, if only she could remember its name. It wasn’t even on the map. Was it something with a flower? She looked around trying to find a path. _Or, more likely, a weed_, she thought. _A very aggressive sort of weed. __What a deathly place_. She could only see a couple of feet ahead. Long grey arms of mist reached through the tall grass, strangling the tree trunks and covering rocks on the ground, making the path even more treacherous. She was _so_ tired. With her right hand she rubbed her neck and then she put both her hands on her lower back and pressed her thumbs down hard. Good gods, _everything_ hurt. Maybe she should…  
“Brienne?” She almost tripped over a stone in front of her and startled her horse in doing so, sending him into a minor frenzy, almost trampling her. When she stabilised herself and calmed the horse down, she turned around. There was only a silhouette to be seen, but it was enough.  
  
“Jaime!” She called, dropping the reins and stumbling towards him over the roots and rocks on the ground. This place was like a death trap.  
“_Seven hells_,” he grunted, “I told you not to follow me!” As sudden as it came, the excitement of seeing him, evaporated.  
“It’s good to see you too,” she said cynically as she finally got to him. It was almost too dark to see his face, but she could recognise the outline of his hair as he shook his head, his mouth as he talked, his eyes as he blinked.  
“I’m serious. I told you not to follow me. You promised you wouldn’t.” Brienne took a step closer and reached through the darkness for his hand.  
“I didn’t exactly say the words though, did I? And besides… Have you ever run away from a fight?” Jaime let go of her hand and instead took her by the shoulders.  
“This isn’t a joke.”  
“I know it’s not, but I couldn’t let you do this alone.” She guided his hand to place it on her chest, covering it with her own. “From this day, until my last day. Now, and always, remember?” He stared at her in the darkness. It was so quiet, Brienne heard nothing but their breathing and her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears. Then, as if struck by lightning, he bolted forward and kissed her. She flung her arms around his neck, deepening their kiss, tasting his tears on her tongue.  
  
There was so much to discuss, yet they had nothing to say. They knew they were in danger. They knew this could very well be their last night on earth. They were scared, tired, sore, hurt, worried. But seven hells, they had faced worse odds and come out the other side. So, instead of arguing, they kissed. Jaime led her to the ruins of what must have once been someone’s home. There wasn’t much left of the fire he had built, but it was enough to see each other in the flickering orange light of the flames. Jaime sat on the mattress with Brienne astride his lap, his hand on her back, pushing her against him. She only interrupted their urgent, intense kiss to pull his shirt over his head and then placed hungry kisses down his throat, over his collarbone to his strong, muscular shoulders.  
This wasn’t a matter of _want_ anymore, she _needed_ him. Slowly he pulled her shirt up to expose her growing stomach and when their eyes met, there were no words needed to describe what he was feeling.  
  
When Brienne took of her shirt, Jaime gasped at the sight of her naked form. The chill of the room gave her goosebumps, but she continued to nibble on his ear as he threw his head back with pleasure. He rocked his hips strongly and rhythmically against hers, while gently caressing the swell of her abdomen. Jaime put his arm around her back and lay her down on the mattress, leaving trails of kisses on every inch of skin like it was the first time. He hovered over her for a moment, watching the reflection of the flames hug her soft, smooth skin and gazed into her big, hopeful, blue eyes. He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at her.  
“What are you doing?” she asked, not able to suppress her blushing. He traced her bottom lip with his thumb before he cupped her face and rested his forehead against hers.  
“Remembering,” he said, before parting her lips with his as they lost themselves in all that comes after that.   
  
Only a couple of hours had passed when Jaime woke up. Brienne was on her side with her right arm draped lovingly across his chest, her head resting on his arm, mouth slightly open. Her eyelids fluttered, making her long, pale eyelashes quiver. Jaime gently pulled the blanket off her, exposing her completely. He softly touched her shoulder and let his fingers follow the curve of her arm, flowing over her ribs, tracing her waist, until he met her hipbone. Then he dropped his hand to the curve of her belly. A deep sigh announced her waking. She turned on her back and stretched her long legs. The sight was almost too much for Jaime, so he leaned over her placing loving little kisses on her breast and stomach. He drew a spiral around her belly button while she combed her long fingers through his hair. Eventually he rested his face on her abdomen. Brienne smiled at him until she noticed that he was crying.  
“Jaime? What’s wrong?” A tear dripped down his nose onto her skin. She wiped the trace of it off his cheek with her thumb. “Why are you crying?” He closed his eyes and shook his head lightly.  
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Brienne frowned in confusion.  
“Sorry about what?” He raised his head and sat up, looking at her.  
“About everything. About leaving you, about all of this. I should never have come to Winterfell.”  
  
Brienne grabbed his wrist. “Don’t say that. Look, you don’t have to do this, we could-”  
“There is something I need to tell you.”  
Brienne’s smile faded and her stomach clenched. “What is it?” She felt how fear took hold of her heart and Jaime took a deep breath in.  
“I’m sick, Brienne. I’m dying.” He didn’t look at her when the words tumbled out of his mouth, crashing into her with a deafening force.  
“What? No you’re not. You’re not dying. Have you gone to see Sam?” She sat up straight, suddenly feeling way more revealed than she liked, and stared at him in disbelief. Jaime nodded.  
“I have. He’s been helping me, but I’m not getting better. There is no cure. I’m sorry.” She scrambled to her feet, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and walking away from him.  
“No, no,” she muttered. “You just- We could go to Tarth and see Maester Rowan, I’m sure there is-”. Jaime followed her and took her hand.  
“It won’t help. There is nothing anyone can do.”  
  
“But,” Brienne stammered, “I don’t understand.” She shook her head violently. “Why are you so calm? Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known?” Her voice grew louder with every question.  
“I’ve known for a while now. I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t know it was this serious until the day I left Winterfell.” Brienne pulled free from his grip and put on her clothes. “Brienne, please,” he pleaded, but every time he tried to grab hold of her, she swiftly avoided his touch. She was still shaking her head when she got to the door.  
“I can’t believe this,” she said to no one in particular. Jaime walked after her.  
“Brienne, please, you have to understand...” She turned around and although her eyes will filled with tears, they were on fire.  
“I don’t _have_ to understand anything.” Jaime grabbed her hand as she tried to walk away.  
“Please-” he begged.  
“Let me go.” She pulled free and stalked over to her horse, pulled herself onto the saddle and rode off, tears streaming down her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... it's quite long. 
> 
> ...sorry about that:)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime goes to King's Landing to kill Cersei and this time, Brienne promises not to follow him. With actual words. "No issues here."

Brienne was all kinds of things. Scared, angry, sad. _Scared_. She wasn’t too far away from the ruins of Clover’s Crossing. She only rode for a couple of minutes, just until she was sure that she was far enough away that Jaime wouldn’t be able to hear her screaming and crying as she paced up and down helplessly, running her hands through her hair and ripping out a handful as she did.  
_Why_? She asked herself. _Seven fucking hells, why_?! She punched a tree almost hard enough to break her own fingers, but no amount of self-harm could distract her from the pain she felt inside. She cursed and yelled and kicked and punched at whatever she could find until she was panting like a dog. It was all _so_ unfair. What had she done to deserve this kind of torture? Why were the gods so cruel, giving her a few weeks of a kind of happiness she’d never, in a million years, expected to find, before mercilessly ripping it apart, letting it crumble – no, _shatter_ – to pieces? Brienne dropped to her knees and buried her face in her hands. When she closed her eyes, she saw Jaime’s face as he begged her to stay. The image broke her heart. She feared that if she stayed away for too long, he would leave for King’s Landing and the last thing she would have said to him would be ‘Let me go’. She rubbed her hand over her belly, finding the courage to pull herself together and back to him.  
  
When she reached the village, Jaime had already saddled his horse, but seemed to be waiting for her, sitting on a tree stump between the ruins. There were no words to describe the relief on his face as he turned around when he heard her approaching. She almost jumped down from her horse and fell into his arms, holding onto him for dear life in an embrace that was sweet as a summer’s breeze, but heavy as a cold winter’s night. Brienne could have held him like that until the next dawn, but there wasn’t much time.  
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me,” she said as she drew back. Jaime attempted to say something but she didn’t let him. “But I’m sure you had your reasons. However _stupid_ they might be.” Jaime gave her a sad smile.  
“I really am sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you. I just wanted protect you, to keep you safe.” Brienne lowered her eyes.  
“I know,” she replied, “and I’m sorry too. For leaving you like that. I just...”  
Jaime cupped her face in his hands and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You don’t have to apologise. Believe me, I understand. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’m not even sure how to tell myself.” The silence between them was heavy with questions.  
  
“When you promised me that you would do whatever it takes to come back to me... Did you mean that?” Jaime blinked at her.  
“Of course. I love you. I love you more than anything.” The flood of tears was stronger than she was.  
“But you can’t die,” she said.  
“I know,” Jaime replied, as he pulled her tightly against him. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in his soothing, familiar scent.  
“You need to live.”  
“I know.” He stroked her hair. “And I will, for as long as I can. But you have to understand something.” She drew back to look at him. “I have to kill Cersei. For you, for the baby, for the thousands of people in King’s Landing. And for me. I have to make amends for all the hateful things I’ve done.”  
“But,” she protested, “Why does it have to be you? Why can’t you let Daenerys or Jon do it? Why risk whatever time we have left together?” Desperation had completely taken over her voice.  
“It has to be me. I’m the only one she will let close enough to harm her. If I wait for the Dragon Queen, thousands of innocent people will die. I can’t let that happen. You know I can’t.”  
“Then let me come with you. We can do it together.” Jaime shook his head.  
“Absolutely not. Listen, Brienne… I know this is hard, but I _am_ dying, regardless of whether or not I go after her. The worst thing that could happen, is that I don’t make it out of the castle. But trust me, if I go down, I’m taking her with me, and I will find peace in knowing that I’ve kept you safe.” He cradled her face in his hands and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “If I do make it out alive - and I will do _everything_ within my power to make sure I do – I _will_ come back to you. And I promise to love and adore you every second of every day we have left, enough to last you a lifetime without me.” His voice cracked at the last words and Brienne pushed her cheek into his palm, covering his hand with her own.  
“I have to go now, or else this will all have been for nothing.” Brienne bit her lip and nodded, eyes still closed, unable to let go of his hand. He pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead and then moved to her lips. She threw her arms around his neck, making Jaime stumble backwards. It took everything inside of her to break off their kiss, but she knew she would have to let him go.  
  
Her mind went quiet as the Dothraki Sea as she observed him attaching _Widow’s Wail_ to his sword belt. Jaime looked over his shoulder to her. He wanted to ask her if she was alright, but knew better than to do it. Instead, he said: “Promise me you won’t follow me this time. And I need to hear you say the words.” He clasped the belt around his waist and turned back to find Brienne shaking her head with her eyes closed. Then it changed into a slow nod as her shoulders began to shake. She couldn’t bear to look at him. Jaime put on his gloves, hiding his golden hand from the world and walked up to her, reaching for her face.  
“Please, I need you to say it. Don’t be afraid. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ll be okay, I know you will. Now please, promise me, Brienne.” She sniffled a couple of times, trying to find her voice.  
“I promise.” They fell into a kiss strong enough to stop the world from turning, before he placed his hand on her stomach as he looked down at it.  
“I love you Brienne. Both of you. Whatever happens, I need you to remember that. Now, and always.” She took a deep, shaky breath in and echoed his words.  
“Now and always.”  
  
Jaime had taken just enough _Frost Wine_ to dull his throbbing headache, although he was quite certain it wasn’t just his illness that caused him to feel miserable. He carried a weight on his heart and a stone in his stomach. He kept thinking about Brienne, so much that he almost took a wrong turn leading him away from the city. King’s Landing wasn’t far from Clover’s Crossing. In fact, it was close enough that, on a good day, you would be able to hear the bells of the city echoing through what little there was left of the village. Jaime knew of a cove that would lead him to a passageway that went all the way under the city, straight into the Red Keep. These were the perks of being in the King’s Guard. First, it helped him free his brother. Now, it would lead him to his ultimate act of redemption.  
He decided to tie his horse to a tree just off the beach and walk the rest of the way. When he suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a galloping horse coming his way, he hid behind some bushes, peeking through it to find that the horse had lost its rider. It raged through the trees like a storm. Jaime waited until he was fairly certain there was no one following the horse before he continued his way. With his hand on the hilt of his sword, he slipped into the darkness of the cove. He tightened his grip around the steel and thought of Brienne.  
  
A cold morning chill rushed through the curtains, raising the hairs on the back of Jaime’s neck. Cersei glared at him.  
“I knew you’d come to your senses.” He forced his face into a smile, trying to hide the tangle of emotions he was feeling. She didn’t seem to notice. Of course she didn’t notice, she only paid attention to herself. “Did she cry when you left her?” she asked, scratching at something invisible on the table. “That great cow.” Jaime clenched his fist, trying not to lose his temper.  
“You don’t have to do this,” he said, leaning over the table. “You can walk away.” The room seemed to freeze with her cold and cruel laughter, until she sighed, swirling the wine around in her glass.  
“You were always the stupidest Lannister.” She stood up and walked over to the window, slithering her lean, long fingers down his arm like a serpent, as she passed him. “Tell me what you see,” she commanded him. Jaime turned around to face the window and looked out over the city.  
  
“I see people. _Innocent_ people.” Cersei snorted loudly.  
“That’s where you’re wrong. In a war for the throne, there is no such thing as innocence. We are all guilty of choosing sides.” Jaime took a breath to say something but she silenced him, continuing, “Even _not_ choosing a side, _is_ choosing a side, which makes an enemy of anyone who claims to impartial.” Jaime grabbed her hand, trying to find a slither of humanity to hold onto.  
“What about the children, Cersei, what about them?” A flash of sanity moved across her face and he hoped he had finally found a way to talk some sense into her. His hope was fleeting as the wind.  
“You’re just about as naive as that idiot, Ned Stark,” she said bitterly. Jaime almost felt like laughing at the realisation that her words hadn’t as much as offended him one bit. At this point, he wasn’t so sure if it was the worst thing to be compared to him. It surely beat being compared to her. Cersei ignored his internal dialogue. “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, a few days before we executed him. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground. And I intend to win.” She pointed her glass out to the houses and the people beneath them. “I’ll tell you what you see. You see a death trap. There is a path of wildfire under the city, as far as the eye can reach. If the Dragon Queen breathes as much as a sigh of dragon fire, the city will explode. She can be queen of the ashes.”  
“Cersei, please,” he begged, “This is madness. Think for a second. You don’t have the love of the people, what’s there to rule over?” She pulled away from him.  
“I don’t need their _love_. I have their fear.” Jaime sighed.  
“You sound like the Mad King.” She gave him an indignant look.  
  
“It doesn’t have to be like this. Ring the bells, surrender the city. Let them have their stupid fucking throne.”  
Cersei scoffed. “Not for my Seven Kingdoms.”  
“If you don’t stop this now, there won’t be any kingdoms to rule over,” he pointed out, but she shook her head, walking away from him.  
“Then I’ll build a new kingdom. Or die trying.” He sighed deeply, desperately. It was pointless, just as Tyrion had told him. “Tell me something,” she continued as she sat down again. “Did you think of me while you were fucking her?” Jaime swallowed his rage away and lowered his head. She took it as a confirmation. “Must have been difficult with a view like that.” Jaime let his anger slip for just a second, but it was enough time to slam his golden hand down on the table, sending a shock through the glasses.  
“That’s _enough_. Leave Brienne out of this.” Cersei raised one eyebrow.  
“Brienne? Is that what you call her? Funny, I remember you calling her a wench, an ugly beast.”  
He frowned at her, clenching his jaw. “Her name is Brienne,” he said warningly. Cersei rolled her eyes and Jaime could feel his blood boiling as he straightened his back and looked her right in the eye when he said, “Brienne _Lannister_ of Tarth. She is my wife now, and I love her more than life itself.” The room flooded with her violent laughter.  
“Of course you do,” she said when she was done, before turning her cold, glistening eyes back to him. “And yet, here you are, wearing _that_.” She gestured to his golden hand and he gritted his teeth, untying the strap that held the heavy golden prosthetic to his arm. He smashed it down onto the table and shoved it towards her. Before either of them could saying anything else, their attention was drawn to the sound of a heavy door opening.  
  
Qyburn walked in, swiftly and quietly, like the shadow he was. _How ironic_, Jaime thought coldly. _All she ever wanted was to rule over the Seven Kingdoms, and now all she has left are shadows, __fear__ and death_.  
“Ser Jaime,” he greeted, his voice slick and soft. Jaime replied with a single nod. His throat was tight. Although he had gone over this plan a hundred times over the past couple of days, he wasn’t quite prepared to deal with Qyburn too. He might have been a sick piece of work, but he did owe him his life, in more ways than one.  
He remembered him asking, “How many men have you killed, my lord? And how many lives have you saved?” Involuntarily, Jaime’s hand went to the waistband of his woollen breeches. The small linen pouch was still there, securely in place. All he had to do, was wait for the right moment. He was confused for a second when he rested his hand on his hip and did not find his sword there. Then he remembered handing it to ser Gregor to be put away in a chest in the next room, as Cersei smiled at him in a way that gave him chills.  
“For safety reasons,” she’d said, “I’m sure you understand.”  
  
“What took you so long?” Cersei hissed at Qyburn.  
“Please pardon, your grace. These old bones don’t make it up the stairs as easily as they once did.” Cersei rolled her eyes at him, visibly annoyed, but didn’t say anything. “The ravens tell me the Dragon Queen is only a few hours away.” Cersei raised her glass to him and nodded, a pleased smile on her face.  
“Good. Let them come. Send word to the commander of the Golden Company and Euron Greyjoy immediately.”  
“At once, your grace.” He hurried outside to do as his queen bid him.  
  
Time raged past like a shooting star. Cersei’s glass seemed to be glued to her hand, which was why Jaime still hadn’t found an opportunity to slip the powder in her drink. As Qyburn walked back into the room, noise had already started to rise from the streets of King’s Landing. The thrum of heavy armoured footsteps and the rhythmic clang of metal on metal. Cersei got up and stared out over what would soon be a mass grave. _This is my chance_, he thought as he realised Cersei had left her glass on the table, but when he turned back to it, Qyburn was already pouring her some more. _Fuck_. He scanned the room as he joined Cersei near the window. There had to be another way to put an end to this.  
“Qyburn, bring me my glass,” she commanded. “I need a drink to enjoy what I’m about to see.” When he passed her the glass, Jaime could have sworn he gave him a certain look, although he wouldn’t have been able to tell what the look was supposed to mean.  
“I had them make me a new crown,” she suddenly said proudly, as they watched the Lannister army and the Golden Company march down Flea Bottom to man the gates. Rows of scorpions decorated the walls connecting them. If he didn’t know any better, Jaime might have been able to believe that she actually stood a chance. “Show him, Qyburn,” she told him, pointing at a small chest while giving Jaime a look heavy with darkness. Of course, it was a glorious piece of art, swirling golden ribbons that came together in a lion’s head, decorated with more rubies than Jaime could count.  
“It’s... very fitting,” he said. “Too bad you won’t get to wear it.” She shot an accusing look over her shoulder at him, but just as she was about to say something, a flash of panic danced across her face. She seemed to choke on her breath, coughing violently. Jaime looked up from the crown and back to her. The colour was draining from her face, making her pale as a ghost.  
“Cersei?” he asked, as he turned around, not quite daring to approach her. She seemed to lose her balance and slammed her glass into the wall as she tried to remain on her feet, shattering it into a thousand pieces, spilling wine over her dress and the ground.  
  
“I can’t,” she said, her eyes wide and red, “breathe.” Jaime immediately reached for the pouch under his waistband, but it was still there. His heart started racing.  
“What’s happening?” He asked as he turned to Qyburn, who didn’t move, but just stood at the table, lifting the crown from the chest, slowly turning it around in his hands. “Cersei?” Jaime repeated. She stumbled to the nearest chair, but missed it by a few inches and collapsed onto the ground, bringing a large vase down with her as she bumped into a side table.  
“Help me!” she grunted. Her lips and the circles under her eyes turned a dark shade of blue. Jaime hurried over to her and knelt down, pulling her onto his lap. “You...” she choked. “You did this.”  
Jaime couldn’t believe he was saying it, but he stammered, “I- I didn’t.” Cersei shook her head hysterically, clawing at her throat, gasping for air.  
“Qyburn, help me.” It was little more than a whisper. “Kill him!” Qyburn slowly walked around the table, looking down on them both. Cersei’s eyes started to roll back into her head and the sound she made as she was holding on to life made Jaime want to vomit. She kicked her legs at him, hissing “Get away from me!” before spiralling down a storm of coughs. Blood ran down her chin as she looked up, tears streaming down her face, sweat covering her brow. She tried to call for the Mountain, but what came out was no more than a sigh.  
  
“Oh, he won’t hear you,” Qyburn said, as he gently put the crown back on the table. “I told him his brother was seen in the cellars, telling everyone who’d listen that he was going to kill him.” He gave them a smug smile. Jaime was so confused he couldn’t think straight. His headache was worse than ever before. Cersei doubled over, vomiting blood all over Jaime and herself. She was now holding on to his arms so tightly that her nails almost cut through his leather jerkin.  
She seemed to have trouble keeping her eyes open, but as her eyelids fluttered open and shut, she stammered between exhausted sighs. “Into... the world… together...”.  
“What?” Jaime said, as he held his face closer to hers, trying to hear what she was saying.  
“Leave… together.” He never saw her hand searching the ground behind him for part of the ceramic vase that had shattered on the stone tiles, until she drove the sharp edge hard and true into his side. The shard crashed into him like a bolt of lightning. He winced and gasped as she pulled her hand back, blood gushing through his fingers in dark, warm streams. The collision between Jaime’s body and the table sent the golden crown tumbling to the ground with a sharp clang. Within half a second, Qyburn had pulled an oddly familiar dagger from his robes and stabbed Cersei in the back, making her finally loosen her grip on Jaime, sliding back onto the ground. Qyburn hurried to Jaime’s side and pressed down on his wound.  
  
“You have to leave, _now_,” he warned Jaime. “It won’t be long before the Mountain finds out his brother isn’t actually here and neither of us will be safe when he does. Quickly now.” He pulled Jaime up by his arm and let him lean against the back of a chair. His head was spinning as he scrambled to his feet, looking back at Cersei, cold and lifeless, covered in blood and wine and surrounded by shards of glass and ceramic. Qyburn grabbed Jaime’s golden hand from the table and held it up to him, but Jaime growled at it and shook his head viciously, so he put the hand down again, before taking his dagger and cutting off a piece of his robe.  
“Press this down hard.” Jaime was still shaking his head in confusion, sweat now dripping down his temples. Qyburn opened one of the tall windows and sent out a strange whistle into the sky.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Jaime panted as Qyburn cleaned off his dagger and stuck it back into his robe, grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled down a short note. Qyburn ignored him and hurried across the room doing god knows what, until he took off his robe, revealing rather strange linen clothes. He cut off a long strip of fabric, tied it twice around his waist and walked into the next room. Jaime heard him fumbling around before he came back with _Widow’s Wail_ in one hand, another sword belt and some leather garments in his other.  
He reached around Jaime’s waist to tie the belt around him as he looked up at his face, saying, “Let’s hope you won’t be needing that in your condition.” Suddenly, the flapping of wings caught their attention. “Ah, there you are,” Qyburn said to an enormous raven that had appeared in the window. The bird’s eyes turned from black to white as it blinked, before going dark again. Qyburn rolled up the note and tied it with the nearest piece of string he could find, before attaching it to the birds leg. “Take this to Jon,” he said while the bird hopped onto his arm, cocking its head to one side. “And hurry,” he added as he reached his arm out the window, watching the bird soar through the sky.  
  
Qyburn turned back to Jaime, who was still frozen in place, unable to speak or even think. He pulled Jaime’s arm around his shoulder, supporting his weight as they made their way to the door.  
“Why?” Jaime finally managed to ask.  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Qyburn answered with a grin. “I didn’t do this for you, but I couldn’t let you do it alone.” In one swift movement, as fast and sudden as lightning, Qyburn’s hand went up to his face and he pulled the skin from the chin up over his head, revealing another face. The shock knocked the air out of Jaime and he stumbled backwards before Arya took him by the wrist, preventing him from falling down.  
“She was on my list,” she added calmly as she pulled Jaime’s arm around her shoulder again. “No time for explanations. We have to go.” Jaime glanced back at Cersei one last time, before nodding and letting Arya lead him out of the room and down the stairs.  
  
The Red Keep seemed to be even larger than he remembered it. Perhaps that was because he was wounded and every step took at least three times the amount of effort it normally took.  
"You look like shit,” Arya panted as she pushed him into a wall, looking around the corner to see if there were any guards there. Jaime huffed quietly.  
“Thanks,” he said.  
“Listen, I need you to use that small brain of yours.” Jaime frowned at her, but she ignored him. “Isn’t there some kind of passageway that leads from the cellars out to the beach?”  
Jaime nodded. “There is. But it’s quite a long walk.” Arya looked him up and down, visibly trying to determine the chances of him making it out alive.  
“Right. Well… You’re just going to have to think happy thoughts.” Arya untied the strip of linen she had tied around herself earlier, and nodded towards Jaime’s jerkin. “Take that off,” she ordered him. He undid the clasps before shrugging the jacket off. Arya removed the soaked piece of fabric and looked at the wound. Jaime had his eyes closed and his head thrown back in pain. “Sorry about this,” she said as she ripped part of his shirt and folded it twice before pushing it down on his wound. “Hold it there.” Jaime groaned above her head, looking pale and only half alive. “Happy thoughts, remember?” She paused for a second, and then added, “Think about your wife.” His eyes shot open. “I truly don’t get it, but for some fucked up reason, she really loves you.” She tied the fabric around his waist and tugged at it, making sure it was as tight as possible. “If she believes you’re a good person,” she continued, “there has to be some amount of truth to it. Even if I can’t see it.” Jaime gave her a weak smile as he put his jacket back on.  
  
“Right. Come on, up you get,” she said as she pulled him to his feet again. “Do you remember the way out?” Jaime nodded. “Can you make it?” Another, slightly more hesitant nod. She stared at him for a moment, searching for something in his eyes. “Just think of how pissed Brienne will be if you don’t make it back.” She squeezed his arm in an almost friendly way and turned around. “You have to make it back.”  
“Wait,” Jaime said, confused. “Where are you going? Aren’t you coming with me?” She gave him a dark smile.  
“Cersei wasn’t the only one on my list, you know,” she said as she pulled the dagger from her sword belt and flipped it around skilfully. “And I’m feeling lucky.” Jaime decided not to ask anything.  
“Thank you,” he said.  
Arya nodded and turned around to walk way. “Good luck, Kingslayer.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Jaime.” And with that, she ran past the dragon skull and up the stairs.  
  
It seemed to take hours to get through the cove. The way out felt at least twice as long as the way in. He blinked against the blinding sunlight when he finally made it to the beach. His legs were weak and his vision was blurry. All he had to do was make it to the damn horse. Put one foot in front of the other. “Happy thoughts,” he mumbled to himself. “_Brienne_.”  
He had hoped that reaching the horse was the hardest part, but as he left the swelling chaos of King’s Landing behind him, he found it harder and harder to stay upright in his saddle. He was only a few miles away from Clover’s Crossing, when the darkness closed down over him like a heavy blanket and he had no more strength left to fight it. It felt like he was drowning, trying to keep his head above the pool of unconsciousness. He swayed from left to right before he eventually slipped from the saddle and fell onto the ground. Small clouds of sand and dust swirled around as he breathed against the earth. The echoes of his horse’s footsteps drifted through his mind as he was left by the side of the road. Left for dead.  
“Brienne,” he sighed, before closing his eyes and falling into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a struggle and I hope it doesn't show as much as I fear it does. Big thanks to the people that have encouraged me to not just give up on the whole damn thing earlier this week.
> 
> Credits to my dear Nymphy for the simplest flapping of a bird's wings you'll ever read about.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime go on one last journey and it might be the toughest one yet. Some say there is a time and place for everything. Sometimes it's just not here and now.

“Where _are_ you?” Brienne whispered into the wind. She felt uneasy. Her thoughts and fears were tumbling over one another inside her cloudy mind. _You promised you would come back to me. You promised_. She chewed her lip until she tasted blood on her tongue. Hours of pacing up and down, saddling and unsaddling her horse had passed, as she grew more and more restless. Now she was standing under a willow tree at the edge of the village, staring off into the direction of King’s Landing. She could see the trees in the distance, and far beyond that, the towers of the Red Keep poking and scratching the sky with unforgiving orange arms. There were strange dark clouds of smoke rising from the bay.  
_Would it be possible to reach someone in your mind?_ she wondered. _To send them a message using nothing but the strength of your heart and the power of your thoughts?_ She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.   
“I need you.”   
  
Jaime drifted over soft dark blue waves, carried by the wind, weightless and calm. The salty ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he floated above the water. He remembered the island from when they passed it on their way to Dorne, thinking it was Estermont. “Tarth, ser Jaime,” the captain had told him, “The Sapphire Isle”. He could see Brienne standing on a cliff, tall as ever, more glorious and powerful than he had ever seen her. She was older now, and she looked as though worry and grief had aged her more than her years, but she was more beautiful than all the stars and all the diamonds and rubies in the world. She stared out over the water, a heavy cloak of deep sapphire blue and gold swirling around her as the wind tossed it up and down.   
The sky was ringing as it carried Brienne’s voice over the stony cliff onto the sea, hugging the waves, caressing the wind. She was singing, quietly but most beautifully. Her voice was smooth as silk, and so warm and soothing that the rude sea grew civil at her song. It made him feel extremely light-headed. He knew she had a beautiful voice, but she would always stop singing as soon as she realised someone else was listening. Jaime tried to reach for her hand, but no matter what he tried, he could not get to her. He clawed at the air helplessly, wanting to pull her in tight, let her head rest upon his shoulder, kiss her forehead, stroke her hair... The anger he felt at his inability to move, caused him to open his eyes only for a few fleeting seconds, barely long enough to register that he was still face-down by the side of the road, somewhere between King’s Landing and Clover’s Crossing. Somewhere between life and death. Then the arms of unconsciousness took hold of him again and pulled him under.   
  
Brienne had been staring at her sword for what felt like hours, drawing circles around the ruby on the hilt with her thumb. The days were short this time of year, and soon the sun would start to set, covering the hills in twilight. She turned the sword around in her hands, studying the lion’s head on the pommel with sad eyes, gently caressing it. _It was his fourth gift to me_, she thought. _First he saved my honour. Then he gave me his trust, and after that, he saved my life_. She tore her gaze off the sword just in time to spot a dark shadow on the horizon. It was tall, and swift and fast. Brienne jumped to her feet and squinted her eyes.   
“Jaime!” His name escaped her lips before she even realised she was talking. The horse raged through the trees but when he entered the field between the trees and the hill on which she was standing, she noticed that the horse had lost its rider. Her stomach turned with such force she felt like throwing up. She felt her heartbeat pulsing loudly in her ears. As the horse approached her, she knew it was his.   
“Whoa,” she said as she steadied the horse. “Whoa there boy.” Brienne looked over the horse’s back, hoping against better judgement that Jaime would soon appear between the trees. Of course he didn’t. “What happened?” she asked in a voice that seemed to belong to someone else. Her heart was hurting. The horse turned around restlessly, and she could see that the brown leather saddle was stained with blood. Her stomach clenched again. She made a promise not to follow him, but she knew he was in trouble, wherever he was. She just _knew_ it. The horse finding her was a sign from the gods. It _had_ to be.   
  
Jaime woke from a strange sensation. It was light as a feather, warm and gentle as one of Brienne’s kisses. He felt two little hands exploring his face. Soft and tender fingers gently following the curve of his brow and his nose. The hand was warm and its touch was sweet as honey, or the first rays of sunshine touching your face in the morning. Two palms stroked his cheeks, flattening his beard against his skin, meeting in the middle under his chin, before moving up to his temples again. Jaime tried to open his eyes but his eyelids were too heavy.   
“_Papa_,” it was soft as a summer’s breeze. A whisper, a sigh in his ear. “Wake up, father.” A heavy iron hand clenched around his heart and jolted him awake. The world seemed to be asleep under a glowing blanket of orange mist when Jaime opened his eyes. The light was blurry and flickering, or maybe it just seemed that way. In his mind there was the strange echo of a little girl’s laugh. It left his mind burning and his bones tingling. There was a faint smell of fire in the air, carried by the winds from Blackwater bay to the shore and into the woods.  
A drum sounded; steady, rhythmic, swelling. Growing louder and louder, Jaime could feel the vibrations slither through the veins of the earth to right underneath his body. He tried to blink away the blurriness in vain. The whole world seemed lopsided, the horizon itself swayed from left to right and the tall trees were bowing and stretching. There was a shadow moving in the distance. The drum grew louder still, moving closer. Jaime raised his head towards the shadow, but couldn’t quite make out the shape. Then his head fell back into the dirt with a nasty thud.  
  
Brienne put her heels against the horse, encouraging him to run faster. To find Jaime. She was scanning her surroundings, searching for him. He could be _anywhere_. He could be dead under a pile of rubble for all she knew. He could be wounded, he could be captured, drowned, stabbed, poisoned, beheaded. Alone, afraid, in pain. He should have made it back to her by now. There was a narrow path through the woods that led all the way up to the beach just outside of King’s Landing.   
No warning could have prepared her for seeing him unconscious by the side of the road, drenched in his own blood, pale as the cold and fruitless moon. She jumped down from her horse with so much force that the horse reared in protest, but she took him by the reins and hurried over to Jaime.  
  
“_Jaime!_” she called out as she fell to her knees, crawling towards him, sending up clouds of sand and dust. “Jaime, wake up, I’m here.” She took him by the shoulders and gave him a little shake trying to wake him, before moving her hand to stroke his face and brush the hair off his forehead. Her touch seemed to send an electric pulse through his body because he opened his eyes, all red and foggy. He blinked, trying to focus on her face, but she was little more than a bright light floating before him. _He’s alive_.  
“Brienne?” He asked, his voice raw and dry. “I never...”   
“It’s alright,” she told him, “What happened, where are you hurt?” Her hands carefully searched his face and then his neck and chest. Jaime tried to sit up, but his eyes were too tired, head too heavy, arms too weak.   
“I-,” he tried. “She stabbed me…” He moved his maimed arm to his side and flinched. Brienne noticed he wasn’t wearing his golden hand anymore. His touch left his stump red and bloody.  
“Cersei?” She asked. Jaime hummed, but she wasn’t sure if this was in answer to his question or because he was in pain. Seeing him hurt like this was as if someone twisted a knife in her guts. She held his head against her chest and wanted to never let go, brushing the damp hair off his sweaty forehead.   
  
“It’s okay, I’m here now,” she whispered against his temple. “But we have to go - get you somewhere safe and warm. Come on...” She pulled him to his feet, but he was almost too heavy for her. When she swung herself into the saddle and looked down, Jaime was swaying back and forth on his feet, holding on to the horse for dear life. She reached her hand out to him and clamped her legs around the horse to brace herself.  
“Give me your hand, Jaime,” she told him. It took most of her strength to pull his heavy and wounded body up, but as soon as he sat down behind her, he rested his head against her shoulder. For a split second, Brienne was reminded of the time they were tied up back to back on a horse. She reached behind her to pull his arms around her waist and rested her hand on his arm.  
“Hold on, don’t let go,” she said and Jaime used what little strength he had left to pull her in as tightly as he could, before Brienne spurred the horse forward.  
  
Jaime mumbled something behind her. She turned her head and asked, “What?”   
“Happy thoughts,” he croaked. Brienne frowned and shook her head lightly, thinking he didn’t mean to say something out loud.  
“She told me... ‘happy thoughts’,” Jaime continued to mutter against her neck. “And you came.” Tears were burning behind her eyes again.  
“Of course I came,” she replied.  
“She said… You would be pissed… If I didn’t make it back...” Brienne rubbed over his arm and shushed him. Who was he talking about? This didn’t sound like Cersei at all. Perhaps someone found him wounded and took him out of the castle, leading him to safety. Brienne felt grateful to whoever it was.  
  
After a few minutes, she could feel his grip weaken around her and knew they wouldn’t be able to make it as far as the Inn at the Crossroads. _It’s okay_, she told herself, _I’ll take __him back to Clover’s Crossing, treat his wound and ride to the inn to bring back someone to take care of him_._ And then, when he feels __better, we can__… _  
Jaime groaned behind her and she felt his weight shift before his head slipped off her shoulder and he almost fell. With her left arm she pulled him back onto the horse.  
“Just a little longer, we’re almost there,” she said.  
“I want to go home,” Jaime answered sadly. Brienne did not know where home was. Casterly Rock? Winterfell? King’s Landing? It was as if he heard her thoughts. He gently rubbed her belly and said, “To Tarth,” before resting his head against her strong shoulders again.   
  
When they reached the stone cabin where they had spent their last night together, Jaime had to dismount the horse first. Although she did her best to help him, Jaime lost his balance halfway through and collapsed onto the ground with painful crash. Brienne flinched and then swung down from the saddle.  
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly as she knelt down next to him, her voice shaking with worry. He mumbled something unintelligible. “You have to get up. You need to get inside. Please, I need-” He lifted his eyes up to her and when she looked into the endless pools of steel blue sadness, she fell silent. “Please...” it was little more than a whisper.  
  
The skies were painted orange and green. Brienne bent over Jaime and held him as close to her as she possibly could. His breathing sounded painful. Looking at him was painful too. His lips were pale and dry, his skin was grey, like all colour and life was seeping away. His eyes were dark and red and tired. With every tortured breath he took, she could feel him leaving her. She held onto him even tighter. The wind carried the smell of burnt wood and destruction, but there was also a strange sound. At first Brienne wasn’t sure if it was just in her mind. Vague, tingling, like the first hint of a bird’s song in spring. She smiled with her eyes closed, pushing the tears away.

“Do you hear that? ” Jaime strained to listen through the deafening sound of his passing time. He could feel the seconds stretch and spin and evaporate in front of him. He was running out of time, but through the sound of death coming to collect him, he could hear the bells.  
  
“You did it, Jaime. You saved them. You saved _us_. Just like you said you would.” He started crying and she held him, wielding an invisible sword against time, as it was trying to take him from her with long greedy arms. _Don’t touch him_! She wanted to shout. _He __is__ mine_!  
Jaime’s voice was quiet but clear when he said “Brienne… I’m having trouble… breathing.” She loosened her grip when she realised just how tight her embrace was. It was as though she wanted to hold him so tight that their bodies would unite. So that they would truly become one heart, one flesh, one soul, just as the septon had said when he married them. She wanted him to fade into her, to become a part of her so she could give him her strength and she could hold him forever.  
  
It took a long time for her to carry Jaime inside. He dropped to his knees and then rolled onto the straw mattress. Brienne thought of how they made love next to the fire just the night before and she all she wanted was to go back. To go back to feeling his warm breath against her skin, his strong arms around her shoulders, to see his smile and hear his laugh. Maybe she could have found a way to change this.  
Jaime was breathing heavily and had his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. She wondered if he knew just _how much_ she loved him, that she had loved him for years and that the thought of their approaching goodbye physically hurt. When he slowly opened his tired eyes and looked at her, she was certain that he knew.  
“I love you,” she said quietly and he smiled at her.  
He took a few shaky breaths before answering, “I love you too… My sapphire knight.” Brienne buried her face in her hands and cried. One second she would feel desperate and heartbroken and the next she wanted to shake him and yell at him, “Are you happy now?! Was it worth it?” It scared her to feel that way, she knew it was completely unfair of her to feel like that, but she did nonetheless. Feeling anger at least allowed her room to breathe, because the sadness she felt was so consuming she feared she might choke on it.  
  
Brienne held him until the sun had gone down. Both knew there was no time for her to go and get help. He was very clear about not wanting her to leave his side. He wanted her to be there if – no, _when_ – death won. Something had changed in the last hour or so. There was a calmness about Jaime. Not the good kind, Brienne knew. She felt like she was already grieving, even though he was still there. At least part of him was.  
“Are you in pain?” she asked softly, rubbing circles over his hand with her thumb.  
Jaime shook his head. “Not anymore.” She didn’t know whether to say “good” or “_oh gods no_”. “You know,” he moaned, a faint smile on his face, “I always knew... this was going to happen.”  
“What are you talking about?” she asked, wiping a tear from her flushed cheek.  
“I knew I’d die... in the arms... of the woman I love. Ask Bronn. I knew it.”  
“Please, don’t say that.”  
“Say what... that I love you?” She shook her head angrily, violently.  
“We had no time, we need more _time_.” Jaime swallowed and sighed, his heart breaking with every word she spoke, every look she gave him. He reached for her hand and tried to squeeze it, although Brienne barely felt it.  
“I know, love... I know. But we had today.” She hunched over and pressed her forehead against his chest while he cradled her head. Her tears created big dark circles of sadness on his clothes and deep inside his heart.

  
“You can’t leave me. You can’t die. You need to live.” He shushed her.  
“It’s okay, Brienne. You’ll be alright. The strongest… person I know. And the most stubborn.” He tried to laugh but it quickly turned into a deathly cough. Brienne wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were changing, going dark, disappearing into the endless void surrounding them, and it scared her.  
“I don’t know if i can’t do this.” She said as she sat up straight again.  
“You are… a warrior. The first… female knight… of the Seven Kingdoms. You can move... mountains… and carry them on your back.”  
“But I can’t do it without you. I don’t _want_ to do it without you,” she stammered, her voice breaking as it trailed off.  
“You won’t have to.” He placed a cold hand on her swollen belly. “I’ll be right there with you. Now... and always.” He rested his head back, breathing heavily. He was fighting to stay awake, to stay with her.  
“Don’t leave me,” she cried. “Stay with me. Please... Stay.” He shook his head ever so slightly.  
  
“I love you Brienne. I’m sorry it took me this long. We will... see each other again one day... I know we will. And until that day... I will wait for you. Now, and always.” He closed his eyes, sighing. She could see he wasn’t in pain in anymore. She was certain he didn’t feel _anything_ anymore. He was fading. She kissed him, her tears flowing from her face onto his.  
“I love you,” she told him. She wasn’t even sure if he could still hear her, but if he did, it was the last thing he heard before he passed. Brienne pulled him onto her lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, crying like she had never done before. It felt as though part of her died with him, and it _hurt_. It physically hurt. She kissed him although he could no longer kiss her back, wanting to breathe life back into him.  
She held him until the fire had almost gone out and she was so cold she could barely feel her fingers. She knew that eventually she’d have to let go. She’d have to leave him, but she wasn’t sure if she would ever find the strength. Maybe if she’d just stay with him forever…  
Suddenly, she felt a strange fluttering deep inside her and her heart jumped. Their baby was moving and this was the first time she felt it. It was like magic. Like something, someone, was telling her that everything was going to be okay and that Jaime truly was, and always would be, right there. In Brienne and in their child. She placed her hand over Jaime’s and rested them on her belly.  
“We will make him proud, you and I. Now and always.” She whispered, before finally finding the strength to let go.  
  
The journey back to Winterfell was quiet, long and lonely. She had trouble sleeping, and when she did sleep, she had nightmares. When she was awake, she thought of Jaime. She couldn’t eat most of the time and didn’t want to talk to anyone. When she reached the castle and Arya told her what happened in King’s Landing, Brienne felt numb. The only moments where she felt truly alive were when she felt her baby move, reminding her that she had a life to live. That there were things worth living for. Somewhere deep down, Brienne knew she would be okay, she just needed time. The first time she cried after Jaime died, was when she sat outside with Podrick, watching children play in the courtyard.  
He told her, “You know, when you lose something that has truly meant something to you, it can destroy you. But I don’t think there is any weakness in that. You’ll be okay. I know you will.” She looked at him and for the first time, she let him wrap his arm around her shoulder and she let him comfort her.  
After Sansa was crowned Queen in the North, she decided it was time to go home.  
  
Although her father was a shadow of the man he once was, it was good to see him again after all these years. He was old and weak, but he was proud of her and he loved her and he helped her mourn, just by being there, trying to understand and listening to her.  
It was a sunny spring morning after another sleepless night when Brienne knew it was time. She had just returned from one of her many nightly strolls and stood leaning against the window sill overlooking the ocean, when she felt a strange cramp in her abdomen and a burning sensation in her lower back. At first she thought it wasn’t anything serious, but she soon realised that it was quite the opposite and she wasn’t ready for it.  
Hours passed before she called in the septa and asked for the maester. She knew that, as unprepared as she felt, the baby was coming and she needed to be strong. Brienne cried. There was no sobbing, no wailing - just quiet, burning tears. She wasn’t even crying because of the pain, or the exhaustion - she could handle all of that. She cried because she wanted Jaime to be there with her and it was the one thing she could not have.  
  
Maester Rowan seemed to be respectful of the way Brienne was handling - or not handling - things, and didn’t speak much as he sat with her. Although she was scared, she was also excited to meet their child, to finally have some piece of Jaime to hold and kiss again. The excitement was always short-lived though, because soon she’d tip over the edge and start down this endless spiral of worry. It was exhausting and it had been for weeks. Her father was very ill, he would not be alive much longer and she did not have any friends in Tarth. She didn’t really have any friends, anywhere. Just one, and he was halfway across Westeros.  
She clenched her jaw through every contraction, so hard that the maester worried that she would break her teeth. When she started feeling the urge to push, she decided that she’d rather not do this after all. Not when she was all alone and so uncertain.   
“No,” she said, pulling on maester Rowan’s robe, “I don’t want to.” The maester couldn’t make her loosen her grip.  
"Please, my lady, you have to.” Looking into her eyes was like watching the ocean burn. Her power startled him.  
“I told you!” she yelled at him through her tears. “I. Don’t. Want. To.” Then she let go of his robe and fell back into the pillows. The anger had faded, now all that was left was fear and sadness. “Please,” she begged, “make it stop. I can’t do this without him.” The maester did not know what to say.  
  
There were noises coming from the hallway. Perhaps it was her father, or one of the guards, she didn’t know and she didn’t really care either. She just wanted it to stop, she wanted _everything_ to stop. To go back to her first night with Jaime, to all the nights after that, to their wedding. She would give anything, _anything_. Another contraction made it impossible for her to focus. The noise from the hallway was growing louder. It seemed like there were people arguing just outside her chambers.  
As she breathed through the contractions, completely ignoring every instruction the maester gave her, the door flew open and footsteps hurried over to her. Brienne had her eyes closed and was either too afraid or too distracted to open them. All she wanted was to disappear in her own mind to when she was with Jaime. It wasn’t until someone grabbed her hand that she came back to reality.  
“I’m here, you can do this.” Her heart stopped for a moment.  
“Jaime?” she asked, confused about whether the hand and the voice were real or just something she had made up to make it easier.  
“No… I’m sorry, it’s me.” Brienne opened her eyes and it took a few seconds to realise that it was Podrick sitting next to her, holding her hand.  
“Pod,” she breathed as she felt a weight lift from her chest. “You’re here. You’re really here.”  
“Sssh,” he said, stroking her hair. “It’s alright. I’m here with you.” Now she understood what the yelling was about earlier. “Lysa is here as well, she is with your father.” Brienne nodded, crying tears of sadness and fear and relief and gratitude.  
  
“Look, I brought you something from Sansa.” He squeezed her hand to make her open her eyes before he held up a beautiful blanket, all Lannister red with sapphire blue, yellow suns and crescent moons and a proud golden lion in the middle. It was just like the cloak she wore when she married Jaime. She nodded and smiled through the tears.  
“My lady, you have to start pushing now,” Maester Rowan said cautiously. Podrick put the small blanket over Brienne’s chest and took her hand in his again.  
“You heard the maester, my lady,” he said. “It’s time to meet your baby.”  
  
Having Podrick there with her, her only one _true_ friend, gave her a new kind of strength and just the right amount of courage to get through this. He stroked her head and held her hand and kept repeating that she was going to be okay, that she would see her baby soon and that she would be happy again.  
It felt like the world stopped spinning for a moment when the baby’s cries made the room feel a hundred times brighter and warmer than before. The maester wrapped the little baby in the blanket and handed it to Brienne.   
“Well done, my lady,” he said, “You have a beautiful daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, if you're still here: wow. I'm impressed. Second of all, if you've made it this far, please make sure to read the epilogue!


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have an epilogue for dessert.

Epilogue

\---Sixteen years later---   
  


Earth-shattering laughter rolled over the hills of Tarth. The sun was setting over the Sapphire Isle and she felt like she was flying. Her horse ran as fast as it could, and she spread her arms out like an eagle soaring through the sky. Her long golden curls bounced and swayed as the horse flew over slope of the hill.  
“Slow down! You’re going to get yourself killed!” someone called in the distance. She ignored the voice. She knew she wouldn’t _die_. There were two situations in which she felt pretty much invincible. One was when she was on the back of a horse. Two was with a sword in her hand. She felt unstoppable. Like a force of nature.  
Once her horse had climbed all the way up the hill, they trotted towards the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean. She panted while she rubbed her horse’s neck, felt how flushed her cheeks were and how her long hair was sticking to her sweaty forehead.  
  
“I really don’t get why you have to be so, so… _Reckless_.” She rolled her eyes.  
“I’m not!” the girl called back over her shoulder. “You’re just old and _boring_.” The tall knight finally caught up to the young girl and looked at her with more worry than suited her face. The girl replied with a very familiar cheeky grin. “And _slow_,” she added, her eyes ablaze with life and strength. The knight couldn’t help but feel the tears sting behind her eyes. “What?” the girl asked, frowning at her.  
“Nothing. It’s just...” She cleared her throat awkwardly. “You sound so much like your father. And you look more like him every day.” The girl's frown transformed into a proud smile, and then grew rather sad.  
“I wish I could’ve met him,” she said quietly. The knight strained in her saddle to reach for the girl’s hand and squeezed it.  
“I know Jainee. I wished for that too.” The girl sighed and turned her gaze back to the ocean and its crashing waves.  
“I didn’t mean what I said. You’re not slow. And you’re not boring.” She paused. “You are old, though.” The knight laughed until she saw a ship appear on the horizon.  
“Jain, look, they’re almost here.” The girl wiggled around in her saddle excitedly.  
“Finally!” she called out. “Race you to the castle?”  
“Well, I think we should-” It was no use. Jain had already wheeled her horse around and was soaring back over the hill. She was a wild one. Untameable, free and utterly unparalleled in every possible way. She was as stubborn, loyal and strong as her mother, as gracious, fast and witty as her father and braver than the two of them combined.  
  
Brienne took her time riding back to the castle. When she finally did reach it, their guests had already arrived. It had been a long time since she had seen her friend. She heard his warm, soothing voice before anything else. Of course the first thing Jain made him do, was sing for her. And he was always so easily persuaded by her. _Everyone_ was.  
“Well, well,” she said as she entered the great hall. “If it isn’t the Lord Commander of the Queensguard himself.” Podrick stopped singing and pushed his chair back, scraping it over the stone tiles, sending a chill down Brienne’s spine. He walked up to her and then bowed gracefully.  
“My lady, ser Brienne Lannister of Tarth, the Sapphire Knight.” He paused as he straightened his back and their eyes met before he embraced her. “It’s so good to see you again.” Brienne wasn’t the type for embraces, but with Podrick it was different.  
“You too,” she said as she drew back. “You look old.” Podrick threw his head back with laughter. She saw a couple of lines around his eyes and he had a full beard that wasn’t quite the same colour as the rest of his hair. His kind eyes gazed right into her heart. She had truly missed him. She always did.  
  
Brienne looked over her shoulder to Podricks wife. “Hello Lysa.” Lysa looked up at her with a painful face.  
“My lady,” she groaned. “I’d get up but it seems I’m rather occupied at the moment.” She had her daughter on her lap who was trying – and failing – to braid her mother’s hair.  
“That’s quite alright,” Brienne said, waving at her dismissively.  
Her attention was drawn back to Podrick when he said, “It looks amazing, my lady.” Brienne looked over her shoulder to find him staring at Oathkeeper and Widow’s Wail, decorating the wall together as they had fought countless enemies together, proudly telling the story of house Lannister of Tarth. She sighed deeply.  
“It does.” He replied with a sad smile.  
“Can you believe it’s almost been 16 years already?” Brienne shook her head.  
“Not really. It seems like yesterday when we fought together in Winterfell. Do you remember when those wights had us pushed up against the wall and we were certain we were going to die?” Podrick chuckled.  
“As if I could forget.” They glanced at each other and although no more words were spoken between them, there were so many things said.  
  
“Mother,” Jain’s sweet, ringing voice swirled through the room. “Can I take father’s sword down to show Robert? Please?” Brienne smiled at her.  
“Fine, but no playing around. If you want to practice, use your tourney sword and give Robert one as well.” Jain rolled her eyes at her mother. It was pretty much all she had been doing lately.  
“Come on, Rob,” she called to the boy. “I’ll show you what a _real_ sword looks like. So we can forget about that sorry piece of steel you call a weapon.” She punched him in the arm. “I really want to see if you’ve gotten even worse than last time. Remember last time? You were _so_ _slow_. And your footwork. _Ugh_!” Brienne snorted. Watching the two of them was like travelling back in time listening to her own banter with Jaime.  
  
It was a lovely evening. Little Emma had fallen asleep on Lysa’s lap while they watched Robert and Jain practice their sword fighting. Robert lost every time.  
“She’s good, Brienne.” Podrick said proudly. “_Really_ good.” Brienne felt a warmth wash over her heart as she watched her daughter win match after match with the slightest effort. Jain was so cocky, just like her father. Brienne got up and hung Widow’s Wail back on the wall, reuniting it with Oathkeeper.  
  
“Well,” she said as she wiped her sleeve over the Valyrian steel to get rid of the greasy fingerprints, “there is a reason why the Queen in the North made her the youngest knight there ever was.” Podrick shook his head in disbelief.  
“A fourteen year old girl. If I wouldn’t have been there to see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it. She was even younger than Jaime was when he was knighted by ser Arthur Dayne.” Brienne nodded.  
“I know. She deserved it. She fought bravely. Stupidly, recklessly, sending-her-mother-to-the-grave-ly, but bravely.”  
“And now it seems that the Six Kingdoms are at peace at last,” Lysa said.  
Podrick shrugged. “Oh, well, they should have killed that Iron Squid ages ago. At least now Yara Greyjoy rules over the Iron Islands. It seems the world has come a long way since the Mad King sat on the Iron Throne.” Robert was panting when he reached the table and gulped down a cup of water.  
“It’s a kraken father.” Podrick didn’t look up.  
“Hm? What is?”  
“The Greyjoy’s sigil. It’s a kraken, not a squid.” Podrick winked at Jain.  
“Is it now?”  
They talked all evening and when they were not talking, they were listening to Podrick and Robert sing. Their voices flowed together like silver and gold. When they made their way out of the hall to their chambers, Brienne thanked him for coming.  
“It really means a lot to Jain. She loves you. As do I.” Podrick smiled at her.  
“Of course I came.”  
  
Brienne was grateful for her friends, for the people that travelled to Tarth to celebrate Jain’s sixteenth birthday. Tyrion absolutely adored Jain and he always brought her ridiculously expensive gifts from Casterly Rock. Not long after Tyrion, Sansa, her husband and children and Arya and Gendry arrived. There were other lords and ladies as well, and Jain had them all wrapped around her finger. She was tall, lean and strong, with Lannister golden hair and Jaime’s blue eyes, but Brienne’s pale, freckled skin and her mouth. Jain possessed an ability to curl those lips into the most dazzling smile anyone had ever seen.  
Brienne was leaning against a pillar, watching her daughter interact with Robert, realising she had never seen more kindred spirits than these two.  
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Podrick suddenly said as he appeared next to Brienne.  
“Depends. Are you thinking about pigeon pie?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise and Brienne chuckled. “I’m joking. Yes, I’m thinking what you’re thinking. Although Lannister-of-Tarth-Payne is quite a mouthful isn’t it?” Podrick shrugged and huffed.  
“I’m more worried about what a _handful_ she’s going to be.” Brienne rested a hand on his shoulder.  
“A handful? _H__uh_, you mean an arm-ful. Make it two.” They both laughed and then stood in silence together, watching their children fall in love.  
  
That evening, as Brienne undressed herself, her mind wandered back to Jaime. Today had been exhausting. She felt proud, and grateful for having these amazing people that were like family to her and Jain. But she was also sad. Sad that their daughter had turned 16 without her father. Brienne tied the robe around her waist, opened the window and sat down in the window sill. The breeze gave her goosebumps and she rubbed her hands over her arms.  
“Sixteen,” she muttered to herself. “If only you could see her now. Just once.” She stared up into the night’s sky and wondered if maybe he _did_ see her. Maybe his spirit was still out there, somewhere. Sometimes she’d swear she felt him right there with her, sudden as lightning and swift as a shadow. But spirits and shadows don’t keep you warm at night.  
Over the course of the last fifteen years, she had lain with other men from time to time, just to feel something. And she did. Once or twice she even cared for them. But she never loved them. Not the way she had and still did, and would continue to love Jaime until forever and beyond. It wasn’t at all conventional of course, for a high-born widowed lady to lay with other men. But then again, with Brienne, things were never conventional.  
  
She made sure his name was always the last thing to escape from her lips at night. Sometimes little more than a breath, a sigh, a whisper. Sometimes it was like a cry for help. Help that never came. His voice was the first thing that started to fade from her memory. After that, his smell. If she tried really hard – and she did – she could remember his touch on her bare skin, just like he was there. She felt the roughness of his calloused fingers gently tracing the flowing curve of her waist and her hip. She could feel his breath against her mouth, his whispers against her ear.  
Although most of him had faded over the years, there was one thing she never forgot: his face. His warm smile and steel blue eyes. Whenever she closed her eyes at night, she could see him as clear as on the first day they met. Back when he was rude, arrogant and cold and she was still all steel and stone, loyalty and honour.  
Every first day of the new moon she would ride her horse out to the cliff, overlooking the ocean. She’d watch as salt and sand crashed against the stone. With her heavy cloak swirling around her, hugging her tightly in the wind, she would observe the ocean in the darkness and talk to Jaime. Sometimes, she would even sing to him, hoping somehow her voice would reach him.  
  
In her dreams, they danced. Something she never knew she wanted, but she wished she could have danced with him, like a proper lord and lady, just once. So in her dreams, they’d dance, high up in a tower, away from curious eyes, in a candlelit hall where windows would decorate the room from floor to ceiling, all the way around them. Wherever they would look, there would be a view of the ocean where dragons would paint the sky, while direwolves roamed the hills down below. The stars would already appear when the heavens were orange with fading light. The soft evening breeze would sweep through thin white curtains, drawing shadows on the walls that danced along with them.  
In these particular dreams, they never spoke, they just danced. She did not have to worry about where her feet were going, Jaime would lead her through it. All she needed to do was hold onto him, never let him go. And so she did. High in the halls of the kings who were gone, this is where she’d dance with her ghost. The one she had lost and the one she had found, the one who had loved her the most. The one who’d been gone for so very long, she always remembered his name. He spun her around on the damp old stone, spun away all her sorrow and pain.  
  
And she never wanted to leave. Never wanted to leave.

  
\--- The End ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who has come along on this journey with me. I am truly grateful for every hit, read, kudo and comment. Your support has meant the world to me. I hope I didn't disappoint all of you sappy happy-ending-lovers too much, because this was a story about overcoming obstacles. And boy, did they face obstacles.
> 
> “Life is dependent on hope. It's dependent on the hope that things will change."  
THANK YOU!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
